Fluff
by International08
Summary: Richard Castle discovers something unexpected when he visits Kate Beckett one December night.
1. Chapter 1

The best word he can find to describe her right this moment is _snuggly_. Or maybe _cuddlesome_, but he's not positive that's an actual word and not one he's made up on the spot. Of course, necessity is the mother of invention, as they say. Whether snuggly or cuddlesome, she is, as always, lovely. Not as beautiful as she was the day he walked into her hospital room to see her sitting up, talking and smiling and _breathing_, but beautiful nonetheless.

He's still standing in the doorway, he realizes, and from the half-annoyed, half-amused look she's giving him, he surmises that he's been staring at her for quite some time now. He steps inside and turns to watch as she shuts and locks the door behind them.

It's as if the artist who sculpted the masterpiece in front of him has decided to sand down her sharp edges. She seems softer, warmer, in her dark purple flannel pants and lavender tank top, her hair pulled up from her neck in a loose bun. He resists the sudden strong urge to kiss the creamy skin of her shoulder, to smooth his hands down her enticingly bare arms.

When she turns back to him, it's with a question in her eyes. It's not the first time he's shown up at her apartment unexpectedly, but there's no case this time, nor a dead lottery winner to inspire altruism and invasions into her personal life.

"Alexis kicked me out," he explains with a shrug. "Movie marathon and sleepover at the loft, no boys allowed, which apparently includes dear old dad. And the boys were busy and I didn't feel like going to the Old Haunt by myself, and..."

She just smiles and shakes her head, reaching for one of the cups he has forgotten he's holding.

"It's fine, Castle."

"Hot chocolate," he offers as their fingers brush and she takes the beverage, lifting it up for an eyes-closed sniff and a long sip.

"Oh," he says quickly, sliding his hand into his deep coat pocket and pulling out a bag, half full and secured with a twist tie. "Marshmallows."

Her eyes are open again and her lips quirk upward affectionately. She takes the other cup from his hands, and tilts her head toward the kitchen before she walks away. He slides his coat off and hangs it on the hook next to the door, opening the bag as he follows her.

He moves to stand beside her at the counter, lifting the lid on his still full cup and plopping in two marshmallows before repeating the routine with hers.

She watches silently as he sidesteps her to open the refrigerator, leaning down and rooting around for a moment, finally pulling out a can of whipped cream.

As he straightens, he notices an empty bowl on the floor next to the table, but he is too focused on the way she's rolling her eyes at him to really give it much thought.

He's added a healthy dollop of whipped cream to each of their cups, and offered her a squirt (which she turns down), and now he's positioning the nozzle in front of his own mouth.

He's got a mouthful of whipped cream halfway swallowed when he yelps at the dozen tiny pinpricks suddenly climbing up his jean-clad leg. Imagine his surprise when he looks down to find bright green eyes staring back at him and rising ever higher.

The kitten is a tiny ball of gray and darker gray fluff, not yet old enough to be sleek, probably only a few weeks old, if he had to guess.

He hears a muffled laugh and looks up at the detective, her hand covering her mouth and mirth dancing in her autumn colored eyes.

"I see you've met Minnie," she says, with a lilt in her voice that he's certain he's never heard.

"Minnie?" he asks, glancing back down at the tiny animal who has now reached his hip.

"Well, Minerva, actually."

"As in the goddess of war?"

"Mmm," she hums in confirmation. "And head of Gryffindor."

He grins at that, and brings his hand to his mouth as he coughs something that sounds suspiciously like "Nerd."

She smacks his chest lightly, but her eyes are twinkling.

He cringes as needle-sharp claws dig into the soft skin of his waist. Seeing the grimace, she reaches over to pluck the kitten from his shirt, but she's underestimated Minerva's tenacity.

His shirt is nearly untucked by the time the detective gives up and allows the kitten to resume her ascent of the writer's chest. He makes faces with each inch gained, but it doesn't take long for the small creature to reach his broad shoulder and settle there.

The purring begins soon after that, and he lifts a gentle hand to stroke over the soft fur once, twice, with a finger rubbing under the kitten's chin on the third pass.

Kate just smiles tenderly at him, and he briefly considers giving up writing for life as a crazy cat lady, just so she'll look at him like that again.

"C'mon," she says quietly. "We can watch a movie."

She picks up her hot chocolate and he picks up his, and she catches his fingertips to lead him over to the couch, Minerva still perched happily, albeit precariously, atop his shoulder.

He sits, propping his feet up on the coffee table, and she drops down next to him, curling her legs underneath her and pulling the throw blanket down from the back of the couch to cover their thighs and her bare feet.

He slouches backward, pressing his head into the back of the couch as she fiddles with the remote, flipping channels quickly, looking for what, he doesn't know.

It's a few days before Christmas, and all the classics are on, have been on non-stop. She doesn't strike him as one who would be drawn in by a sappy sentimental movie like Miracle on 34th Street or The Bishop's Wife, not when she doesn't believe in magic or psychics or fate. But then, she never struck him as the type to have a tiny kitten that would perch itself on his shoulder either.

She stops flipping and leans back, her arm pressing against his but not moving away. He focuses on the screen, listens to Jimmy Stewart telling Donna Reed that he'll give her the moon, that he'll lasso it for her.

He turns, arches an eyebrow at the detective.

"What?" she defends quickly. "It's a classic!"

He shrugs, and Minerva mews her displeasure at his movement.

"I just didn't figure you'd like this kind of movie," he says. "I mean, It's a Wonderful Life is about as sappy as it gets, and you're not usually a sappy kind of girl."

She rolls her eyes at him.

"This," she says, with a gesture at the screen, "is not sappy. Sweet, yes. But it's all about the difference one person can make."

He grins, turning toward her, jostling the kitten who meows again and stands up on his shoulder, arching her back.

"You, Detective Beckett," he sing-songs, "are a sap."

She purses her lips at his teasing.

"This coming from the man with a kitten snuggled against his neck."

He hadn't noticed, but now that he's paying attention, he sees that yes, the kitten has forsaken his shoulder for the warmth of his neck, tucked neatly inside his collar, cool nose pressed to his skin and soft fur slightly tickling the underside of his chin.

He smiles, and turns back to the movie.

"Point taken."

She bumps his shoulder with hers and they watch in companionable silence as George Bailey marries his sweetheart and takes on Mr. Potter.

They've touched more lately, he's noticed. He's not sure if it's the cold weather causing an instinctive need to seek out another's warmth, or maybe the fuzzy feelings Christmastime always seems to stir up, even in hard-nosed Detective Kate Beckett. Or maybe it's the hours they spent cuffed together, forced into closeness and reliant on one another for survival.

_Hold __my __hand_, she'd commanded in that dark basement. Not grab, not take. Hold. And he did.

Whatever the cause, he hesitates to call attention to it for fear that she'll pull back. He likes touching her, likes the warmth of her fingers around his, likes the press of her shoulder against his own, likes helping her with her jacket. So he stays silent.

A few minutes later, it's time for a commercial, and the detective stands, stretching her arms above her head, and revealing a sliver of pale skin above her pants.

"More hot chocolate?" she asks, pulling his concentration from her midriff.

"Oh, umm, sure."

She picks up their empty mugs and heads for the kitchen.

"Can I help?" he calls after her.

She turns him down, telling him to stay put and not upset the cat using him as both pillow and heating pad.

He chuckles, and then listens as she puts milk on to heat, pulls things out of the cupboard.

The commercials end, and he is about to call her back when he realizes she's standing right behind him, hands gripping the back of the couch. He tilts his head back, and she looks down at him for a moment, smiling, and then palms the back of his skull, pushing him upright again, her fingers sliding briefly through his hair. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, she is standing next to him, holding out a steaming mug.

"No marshmallows?" he whines as he takes the proffered drink.

She shakes her head.

"You really don't need that much sugar."

"And no whipped cream, either? Geez, you're boring."

She kicks him lightly in the shin before she sits next to him, rearranging the blanket, and pressing once more against his side.

"Shut up."

He takes a sip of the warm drink, and its richness surprises him. It's sweet, yes, but a little salty too, with a hint of flavor he can't quite place.

"This is good," he exclaims, and she glares at him.

"Your confidence in me is astounding."

He waves off her sarcasm.

"No, I just mean, it's not what I was expecting. It's hot chocolate, but there's something else there. Butterscotch?"

She nods.

"Butterscotch schnapps."

"And something more," he continues, taking another sip and swirling it around his tongue thoughtfully. "Irish cream? Wait, really?"

She startles at his interjection.

"What, Castle?"

He smirks.

"This is like hot chocolate with a Buttery Nipple."

He'd said worse, made far more blatant and obscene comments around her, but this, this reference to a common shot, this brings a blush that begins below the neckline of her tank top and rises quickly all the way to her ears.

"Now why should that embarrass you, Detective?" he asks, and she can hear the gentle teasing in his deep voice.

She elbows him in the side, and ducks her head, hiding her eyes from his laughing gaze.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Minerva chooses that moment to make known her displeasure at his continued movement and loud talking. His words are lost to a yelp as tiny needles dig into the soft skin over his collarbone.

Beckett lifts her head, a hand rising to cover her mouth, stifling a giggle at the glare he is sending toward the creature that has slipped down and is resettling on his chest.

She can't hold back the smile when he winces as the kitten begins to knead his pectoral muscle. He reaches down to move the kitten, but hisses in pain as she just digs in more.

"Gonna have a bloody nipple if you don't settle down and quit upsetting my kitten," Kate says teasingly.

He glances down and then back up to meet her eyes.

"Would you kiss it and make it better?"

She scoffs.

"In your dreams, Writer Boy."

His eyes darken a fraction, and he gives her what she can only label a lascivious smirk.

"You have no idea."

It's further than he's pushed in a while, and he's not sure exactly how she'll take it. He's backed off the innuendo in the past several months, compassion trumping lust.

She rolls her eyes, and he gives a mental sigh of relief before noticing with some interest that she seems to be holding back a smile. Her lips don't move, but her eyes twinkle just a bit.

Now that he thinks about it, she might have made more suggestive comments in the past few months than he has.

There was the cryogenics case, when she commented that she didn't think she needed implants and blatantly looked at her chest (he quite agreed...he's only ever gotten brief and limited glances, but he's pretty sure she's perfect).

Then, there was her revelation that she'd posed in "not a stitch."

And most recently, when they were trapped together and he'd had to pull off her boots, she'd told him he could "fantasize later."

It's almost as if she's been inviting him to think of her in not-so-platonic ways. He doesn't mind.

Their silent eye contact has stretched out for a few seconds now, and is just approaching uncomfortable. He nudges her with his elbow.

"Thanks for the hot chocolate, Kate," he says quietly, giving her a sincere smile.

She nods and smiles back, her eyes softening, holding his gaze for a moment more.

She reaches up toward him, and he's not sure what to expect, but she sets her hand on the kitten, stroking across the small back and eliciting a contented purr. Castle has to hold back the sound in the back of his own throat as her thumb brushes his chest.

"She's made herself quite at home," the detective observes.

Castle grins. "What can I say? You should know how comfortable it is to sleep on me."

She raises her eyebrows at that, and he smirks.

"I seem to recall you using me as a pillow more than once."

"Yeah, when I've been drugged," she points out.

He tilts his head in acquiescence.

"Fair enough. Just sayin' though. Feel free to make yourself at home anytime. I'm happy to be of service."

She narrows her eyes, pursing her lips in the way that he's learned signals that she's trying not to smile at him. Finally, she nods, her eyes sparkling.

"I'll keep that in mind."

He gives her a soft smile.

"That's all I ask."

When she turns back to the movie, he notices that she's sitting a little closer, one hand under the blanket, tucked between her thigh and his. He says nothing, just revels in the warmth invading his chest that has nothing to do with the kitten sleeping there.


	2. Chapter 2

It's another hour before either one of them moves. They've spent the commercial breaks talking softly. He's told her about the recent "college tour" Martha and Alexis have completed. She's filled him in on the latest Esplanie drama, and how she thinks they might be close to getting back together (he grins at that).

As the movie ends, their conversation meanders on to Ryan's upcoming nuptials, and winds around to his own two weddings (Lavish disasters both, he laments, he should have known then), and when she asks him what happened, he tells her he might need more of her "special" hot chocolate if they're getting into that subject.

Honestly, he expects her to drop it. But she surprises him by nodding, sliding out from under the blanket and heading to the kitchen. He follows, holding the still sleeping kitten in place with one large hand.

He leans against the counter, watching her back as she heats more milk. When she turns to face him, she has an odd look on her face.

"You don't," she starts and pauses for a moment. "You don't have to tell me, Castle. It's none of my business, really. I've just wondered."

He shrugs.

"Can't blame you for that."

She contemplates him for a moment, her eyebrows furrowing the way they do sometimes when she's staring at the board, trying to make a connection.

"You're a good man."

Her handful of words fills him up, gives him wings.

"I try," he replies with a small smile.

"You do more than try."

"I," he begins, and has to swallow to clear the sudden tightness in his throat. "Thank you, Kate. That...that means a lot."

She nods, and turns back to the stove to remove the milk from the heat, stirring in cocoa and sugar, followed by more schnapps, and Irish cream, with a little whiskey this time. Jameson, he notices, and he wonders if it might be her small tribute to his alter ego.

She pours their mugs, and he leans forward to take his. Minerva stirs on his chest, awakened by the smell or the movement, and meows plaintively at him. He looks to the detective for direction.

"She's probably hungry. Set her down, and I'll get some food for her."

The kitten squirms as he gets her closer to the floor, wriggling to get out of his hands, but rubs her cheek against his ankle once she's down.

The detective chuckles, and Castle looks up in surprise.

"She's marking you as her territory," the woman says.

He wants to tell her that little Minnie is not the only one in the room who's claimed him, but that's more of an inside thought than an outside one, so he just grins.

"When did you get her anyway? She can't be more than a few weeks old."

"Last week. Found her at a crime scene. That open and shut case you missed because of your meetings?"

He nods in remembrance. He'd had meetings with the Black Pawn execs. Heat Rises has done so well that they're considering a new contract, at least two more after the fourth, maybe up to five more.

He hasn't told Kate yet. He knows she wanted him back after the summer, suspects she might care for him more than she lets on, especially with her suggestive little "next time, without the tiger" comments and the like.

But he's not positive she'll want him around for another two years, let alone five. And though he has plenty of research, he knows that if their partnership ends, so does the Nikki Heat series. He couldn't write it without her.

So he hasn't mentioned about the possible extension, just told the execs he'd need some time to think.

Anyway, he hadn't missed much that day. A scream and a shot heard and called in by neighbors. When the team had arrived, they'd found the killer still trying to clean up his mess.

Easy-peasy, Kate had told Castle afterward, and though they both liked the weird ones, he was grateful for the quick cases now and then, for the chance it gave her to rest and him to stop worrying about her working herself into the ground.

"...and since she was a stray the vic had been feeding and I was the only one whose apartment allowed pets, I took her."

He'd zoned out, he realizes, but tries to look like he's been paying attention and nods.

"Plus, it's nice to come home to an apartment that's not totally empty, you know?"

He's barely holding back from offering to be the reason her apartment isn't empty, but they're not quite there yet, so he refrains, makes a joking observation instead.

"First,_ It's a Wonderful Life_, now taking in a stray? I think you've had a little too much eggnog. Been partaking in the Christmas spirits, have you?"

She just shrugs, her eyes smiling, though her lips remain non-committal.

"I figured the last stray I adopted worked out pretty well, so I might as well add another."

He has a feeling he's missing something, but he hasn't worked out just what it is. There's an adorable quirk of her eyebrow in his direction, and then he understands.

"Yes, but will this one bring you coffee?"

She takes a sip of her hot chocolate before responding.

"Mm, probably not. She is house-trained though."

He's torn for a moment between taking offense and just enjoying her wit, and the obvious pleasure she's getting from this conversation. His delight wins out, and he laughs.

"I'll have you know, Detective Beckett, that I have been house-trained for at least," he pauses and pretends to count on his fingers, "sixteen years. Alexis taught me very early."

Her answering chortle sets off a chain reaction in his body: a flare in his chest, a bolt of electricity down to his fingers, a tingling in his toes, all capped by a gently spreading warmth.

She tilts her head back toward the living room, and he nods in silent answer, pushing off from the counter to follow her.

He hears a curious "mrow" from the floor, and glances down to see Minerva looking up at him, finished with the dry food the detective had put out for her while she was telling him how she ended up with the tiny creature.

He reaches down to lift her again, but she shimmies up his pant leg before he has the chance.

Kate laughs.

"That's how she got me too. Climbed me like a tree, snagged my favorite khaki pants."

"And you still took her?"

"Well, I mean," she says, gesturing to the kitten who is gazing at him from her claw-hold at his sternum. "Who could say no to that face?"

He shakes his head, and endures the momentary pain until Minnie is once again on his shoulder, nuzzling his ear and purring loudly.

"What is it with you Beckett women thinking you can walk all over me?"

She laughs again, and he's certain he could get terribly used to that sound.

They sit, and she picks up the remote again, flipping channels for a minute or two and settling on some claymation movie he's never seen, with singing camels and...is that the California Raisins?

A glance at his partner reveals nostalgia painted across every angle of her face. She catches him looking, and shrugs her shoulders.

"I was eight when this came out," she says quietly. "My dad loved it, but it drove my mom crazy, and she'd always hide the tape right after he watched it, so he couldn't watch it again. He inevitably found it every year. I haven't seen it in a long time."

She smiles a little at the end, and he takes that as his sign that she's okay, so he doesn't push. Instead, he turns back to the screen, just at the right moment to see something he doesn't expect.

"Are those dinosaurs?"

"Mmm," she hums in affirmation. "Rex and Herb."

They're wearing Santa hats.

He shakes his head and leans back into the couch, setting in, keeping one eye on the screen and the other on the detective. Finally, she acknowledges his stare.

"What, Castle?"

He grins.

"You _are_ a mystery, Katherine Beckett."

She tilts her head a little, looking down before lifting her gaze again, dark eyes arresting him through long lashes.

"Can't have you getting bored, can I?"

He thinks she might, just might be flirting with him a little. He's not sure though. She might just be teasing about his attention span. Hard to tell with her. The difference between flirting and teasing. Maybe they're the same thing.

"Bored? With you?" he scoffs. "Not gonna happen."

Twin spots of pink appear in her cheeks, and she nods solemnly, though her eyes are dancing now.

"Good to know."

"But feel free to surprise me anytime," he offers, turning back to the show, but not quickly enough to miss the small, pleased smile she tries to hide.

A flock of ducks fill the screen now, singing "Here We Come A-Waddling" and he laughs, too amused by the show and the woman beside him to hold it in any longer. Minerva doesn't appreciate being jostled, however, and lets him know.

He yelps at the nip to his earlobe, and Kate looks at him, startled.

"She bit me!" he says indignantly, as he reaches up to remove the testy creature from his shoulder.

He sets her on his lap instead, where she promptly curls up, disregarding the author's withering glare.

A snort from his side draws his gaze to the detective, whose hand covers her mouth, and whose eyes are crinkled in laughter.

"Yes, yes, laugh at my pain," he gripes.

"Oh, come on, Castle, man up," she says. "You're not even bleeding."

He opens his mouth, but she continues before he has a chance to say anything.

"And yes, she's had all her shots."

"Thank goodness for small favors," he grumbles, and reaches up to rub at his ear.

Her hand stills his, and she pulls it away, using her long fingers to nudge his head so she can examine both sides of the lobe.

"You're fine," she says, and tugs on his ear gently. "Not even a mark."

"You know," he starts when she's dropped her hand and he's regained the ability to breathe normally. "You and your cat here are a lot alike."

"Hmm?" she asks, reaching over to stroke the soft ball of fluff resting on his thigh. "How so?"

He joins her, rubbing a finger under the kitten's chin as he did earlier and receiving an extra-loud purr and a lazy blink in return.

"Well, first off, you both have beautiful green eyes," he tells her, and the hint of pink on her cheeks returns. "Though hers are a brighter, pure green, and yours look more brown depending on your clothes and how you're feeling."

She smiles, and he's grateful.

"Second, you both like to walk all over me."

That earns him a smack in the chest, though not hard enough to hurt. He captures her hand in his for the briefest moment, squeezing lightly before releasing.

He hesitates to continue with his last point, not because he's afraid he'll hurt her. The opposite actually. He readies himself to move quickly, just in case.

"Last, you both go after my ear when you're upset with me."

As he's speaking he slaps his hands over both ears. She surprises him though, and goes for his side instead, pinching a roll of skin just hard enough to make him squirm.

He works hard to stay in shape, mostly so he can keep up with her in the field, but the late nights accompanied by too many meals of pizza or burgers or Chinese mean that he's added a few pounds over the last three years. Honestly, he's not sure he minds if it means giving her something to grab.

"Geez, woman!" he exclaims when she lets go of him. "I bring you hot chocolate, and this is how your repay me? By pinching and hitting me and siccing your attack cat on me?"

She laughs mockingly, and he can't hold onto his frown.

"Try again, Castle," she says. "Or better yet, let me be the storyteller this time. See, in my version, here's how it happened: you showed up on my doorstep on a Friday night, lonely and bored. And yes, you brought hot chocolate, I'll grant you that. So...I invited you into my apartment, shared my blanket, and let you watch a movie with me. Also, I made you hot chocolate, and provided alcohol. And I was thinking about letting you spend the night on my couch if your daughter's girls' night was a sleepover, but I'm reconsidering that offer at the moment. So, how'd I do?"

He gives her a cheeky grin.

"You have a real talent there, detective. Might even give me a run for my money."

"Thank you," she responds graciously. "I did learn from the best."

He knows better by now than to think she's offering him a sincere compliment, and sure enough, she doesn't disappoint.

"I'm speaking, of course, of best-selling author James Patterson."

He mimes a knife in the chest, and slumps back against the cushions with his arm over his face, peeking out of one eye to take in the undisguised affection in her expression when she thinks he can't see.

"Such a drama queen, isn't he, Minnie?"

He moves his hand from in front of his eyes, but sets it lightly on her forearm instead, pausing the movement of her fingers as they run through Minerva's gray scruff.

"Really, though. Thank you for letting me hang out here tonight, Kate."

He sees a frisson of warmth race through her features before she answers.

"You're my partner. I'm not going to just leave you out in the cold. You show up, I'll let you in."

He has a feeling that she means for her words to cover more than just this night, but he knows better than to push. Pushing gets them nowhere. Sends them backward sometimes. She's right. If he'll just show up, she'll eventually let him in.

But maybe he needs to let her in too?

"I'm grateful to be your partner, then, and your friend," he says, meeting her soft eyes, but hesitating a little before he continues. "You're one of the few true friends I have."

She raises her eyebrows.

"You have tons of friends, Castle. I mean, you always say you've got a guy everywhere."

He shrugs.

"I said true friends. Not people who owe me favors or like me for my money or fame. There are plenty of those. But people like you, the boys, Lanie? Not so common."

"What about the guys you play poker with? They're your friends, aren't they?"

He tilts his head.

"Sort of...I mean, the writers are more or less my colleagues, but I wouldn't show up unannounced at Connelly's house to watch a movie. As for the others, it's something like symbiosis with the Mayor and Judge Markway. I give good press, sometimes campaign donations. They get me out of trouble. Or these days, make sure I can continue to get myself into trouble."

He nudges her with his elbow, a nod to the mayor's phone call to Gates at the beginning of the Fall that got him reinstated.

She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. He's not sure if it's his unintentional reminder that their work is dangerous, and he could get into real trouble someday or the reminder that when the Mayor's term expires, his might end as well. He'd better move on to a happier subject.

"So you, my dear detective, are a true treasure."

He beams at her, and her expression lightens.

"I don't know, Castle...I might just be using you for your coffee."

He barks out a laugh.

"That I don't mind. Feel free to use me anytime, at least for my coffee."

He winks at her before continuing. "Or my body. Your choice."

Her lips curl into the half smile that he loves.

"Hmm...I think I'll stick with the coffee."

He opens his mouth to tell her it's her loss, but he doesn't get that far.

"For now, at least."

She lets out a wicked laugh at his sudden intake of breath.

He can't think, isn't sure of the right response, but before his brain can recover, she's standing and heading to the kitchen, her voice floating back to him.

"I'm hungry. Chinese sound good to you?"

He can only nod when she turns and quirks an eyebrow at him. Minnie jumps from his lap, meowing and scampering after her owner. He decides the kitten has the right idea and follows.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time he gets to the kitchen, she's on the phone and ordering his favorite and hers while she rummages under the counter, emerging a moment later with a bottle of wine and pointing at the drawer where she keeps the opener.

It surprises him, though he knows it shouldn't, that she knows his Chinese order. He's not the only one who observes. It's her job, after all, to _detect_.

Like last Wednesday. His phone rang at 6:17 in the morning, her face appearing on the screen. He answered, she tersely told him to be outside in ten, and then the call disconnected. He'd stared at his phone for a moment, not quite awake, until her words registered.

Nine minutes later, he was greeting the doorman after the quickest shower ever, dressed but still scruffy, not to mention uncaffeinated. She was there, leaning against the hood of her Crown Vic, holding two red Starbucks cups.

He could smell her peppermint mocha as he approached. When he took a sip of the drink she handed to him, his eyebrows lifted and he couldn't keep the smile from his face. Gingerbread latte.

Once, two years ago, he'd accidentally handed her his coffee instead of her own. She'd grimaced and nearly spit it out then, but apparently she'd remembered that this was the seasonal flavor in which he occasionally indulged.

He'd tweeted about it later, not mentioning her name of course. But she walked up behind him while he was sitting at her computer (too many games of Temple Run had exhausted the battery on his phone). She swatted him on the back of the head with her folder, and leaned over to see what he'd been typing.

"I think you misspelled _annoying_ in your hash tag," she'd teased, but he'd seen the pleased twinkle in her eye.

So yeah, he shouldn't be surprised that she knows what he likes. But he is. She knows him, and that thought creates a warm tingling in his belly.

He's pulled from his thought by her arm, reaching in front of him to dig in the drawer he has opened. She pulls out the wine tool, shaking her head at the delay, muttering something about men never being able to find anything.

He turns and takes the gadget from her hand, opening the bottle quickly and efficiently while she sets two glasses on the counter. He pours a good measure of the dark liquid into both glasses, placing the bottle back on counter and lifting his glass to clink against hers.

"To friendship," he says, and she smiles shyly at him. "And slumber parties."

The end of his toast has her drawing back with a glare, and he realizes how that sounded.

"Oh. No. That's not what I...no."

She's still glaring at him.

"I meant Alexis and her friends. Just that if she hadn't kicked me out, I'd be spending a boring evening at home, trying to write, not hanging out with a pretty detective."

Her eyes lose some of their fire at his explanation, gain a different kind of heat when he calls her pretty.

"So it is a slumber party then?" she asks, and he nods.

"Yeah, that's what Alexis said. So looks like I'll be staying in a hotel tonight."

Kate looks at him for a moment, opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again.

"You could just stay here. My couch is pretty comfy. And it should be plenty long enough for you."

His eyes widen.

"You're serious?"

She shrugs.

"My cat likes you."

He smiles, but shakes his head.

"I don't want to impose, Kate."

She rolls her eyes.

"What exactly do you think you'd been doing for the past three and a half years?"

He grins.

"Touché, detective. So, do we braid each other's hair and talk about boys now? Or should we save that for later?"

He can tell she's trying not to laugh, and she's doing a fine job of it, but her eyes give her away, as they nearly always do.

"We," she says, gesturing between the two of them, "are not having a slumber party. There will be no braiding of hair, no talking about boys, unless you mean Ryan and Esposito. Nor will we tell ghost stories or have a pillow fight."

He slumps his shoulders, and frowns sadly, blue eyes wide open, hoping for a response. He gets one: a finger poking his chest, hard.

"And if you try the puppy dog eyes on me one more time, you can kiss your couch privileges goodbye."

He smirks at her.

"Does that mean I'd get to sleep in your bed instead?"

She backhands him across the chest, but she's laughing, so he's not worried that he pushed too far. He thinks, hopes at any rate, that she knows by now that he wants more than that.

Wants everything. Wants always.

He's just not sure what she wants, though recent behavior has made him hopeful that they might be on the same page, even if he reads a little faster.

"So," she says, holding her glass in one hand and reaching down to pick up Minerva in the other, "shall we find another movie while we wait for our food?"

He nods his agreement, and follows her back to the couch, plopping down next to her, his whole side pressed against her. She doesn't move away, just jostles their shoulders until she's comfortable and stays close.

She flips channels until he stops her with his hand on her forearm.

"Wait," he requests, and she goes back to the previous station.

There are singing rats on the screen, and she turns to him with a smile that matches his own.

"Good eyes, Castle. I love this movie."

She has surprised him yet again, but she's already watching with rapt attention, so he doesn't say anything this time, just focuses on Mr. Scrooge and Kermit the Frog on the television and the feel of the warmth and soft curves of the woman at his side.

Well, mostly soft curves. Her hipbone juts into his sharply, and he makes a mental note to keep her bowl of M&M's stocked. Her body is long and lean, needs to be for her job, but a couple pounds wouldn't hurt her at all. She's still a little too gaunt after this summer.

She laughs at the shrill "Light the lamp, not the rat!" and Minnie stirs from where she rested on Kate's lap, arching her back and padding over to settle on Castle, nuzzling his hand.

He scratches the small ears affectionately until the kitten rolls onto her back, at which point he moves his hand to rub her belly. Strong back legs wrap around his wrist while tiny paws with needle-sharp claws trap the rest of his hand. She gnaws on the tip of his index finger, giving it a rough lick when he wiggles it.

Kate is watching him. He can see, out of the corner of his eye, the look on her face. It's the same expression she wears when she sees him with Alexis, the other times she's seen him interacting with kids they've encountered on their cases.

"You're a good man," she says quietly, echoing her earlier words, and he looks up in surprise.

"That's twice tonight you've told me that. Did somebody forget to tell me I was dying or something?"

A shadow flashes across her eyes, and she turns back to the tv.

Well, crap.

He lifts his free hand (the one not currently trapped and covered in kitten drool) and closes it over hers.

"Hey, I shouldn't have made that joke," he whispers. "I'm sorry."

She turns back to meet his eyes, and he's grateful to see that she doesn't look angry, nor ready to burst into tears. Just a little...haunted.

"S'okay," she assures him. "We thrive on the gallows humor, but after the past year..."

She trails off, but their connection holds, and he finishes her thought.

"It hits a little too close to home."

She nods, and they go silent for a moment. He knows where his own thoughts will lead, and he wonders if hers are the same, of empty warehouses and sunny cemeteries, or if they revolve around sketchy hotel rooms and blown-up banks.

He squeezes her hand briefly and then releases, drawing her attention.

"Sooo...you were saying something about how wonderful I am?"

She purses her lips, eyes narrowing.

"I don't recall saying anything about wonderful..."

He figures she'll play it off now, but she doesn't. She lifts her hand to his shoulder, touching it lightly.

"I just...I don't always see you as a genuinely good man."

He furrows his eyebrows. He thinks he's been mostly on the nice side lately. Sure, the snark comes through now and then, but he doesn't think he's been truly unkind. Not even when they were cuffed together and arguing in the basement.

"What do you mean, Kate?" he asks, keeping his voice soft, not challenging, not accusatory, just curious.

She shrugs, and her cheeks redden a little. She breaks his eye contact.

"Nothing. I don't know. When we're at work, you challenge me and you annoy me and you play with the boys. And you act tough, and you make crude jokes. Basically, you behave like a guy."

He tilts his head, not quite getting what she means.

"I _am_ a guy."

She shakes her head, and he knows she's not disagreeing with him, just trying to figure out how to phrase what she wants to say, how much of herself to reveal.

"Sometimes you," she begins, but then pauses, biting her lip. "Sometimes you remind me of my dad. The way he was when I was growing up."

He's still not sure what she means by that, but he thinks it's a good thing. He likes her dad. And he knows the man must be different now than when Kate was young, but still...

"How so?" he asks.

"Just. The way you are with Alexis, and your mother, even when you're on the phone with one of them. You're different. Did you know your voice changes? It gets...softer."

He nods, still lost.

"My dad used to always bring me food or hot chocolate when I was studying or working on a project. He'd distract me for a few minutes until I yelled at him to let me work in peace. But I think he knew when I needed someone to make me take a break."

He smiles, starting to catch up. Like her father, Castle tries to take care of her.

She glances down at Minerva, who has moved from his fingertip to a knuckle and is chewing happily. He hadn't really noticed.

"My parents would have been married for 35 years now."

He whistles. "Wow."

"My mom and I are a lot alike. She worked too hard, and she didn't always know when to stop, and she would forget to eat. And more often than not, she'd gripe at my dad when he tried to get her to slow down. I tended to do the same things."

She looks up at him, and he quirks one side of his mouth upward.

"My dad was just so _patient_ with her, he always knew how far to push and when to step back. With both of us. I know he got frustrated sometimes, but somehow, he was always kind. He's always had a tender heart."

Her eyebrows scrunch up, and he knows that's a sign that whatever comes next won't be easy for her to say. He wants to touch her. Wants to, but knows that might make it harder.

"Castle, I..."

She's cut off by a buzzer. Their food. He's not sure whether he should be relieved or frustrated. She's biting her lip, and he thinks she might be wondering the same thing.

He stands, turning his hand as he does, and setting the kitten on her lap.

"I'll get it."

"You don't..." she says, but her dismisses her objection with a wave.

"I've invaded your home and forced you to keep me company. The least I can do is pay for dinner when I mess up your evening."

She smiles, that soft, affectionate smile that he's seen much more often lately, though usually when she thinks he's not looking. But she's open about it this time, and his chest tightens at the sight.

He heads to the door, hand reaching back to his pocket for his wallet, when he hears her voice and his step falters for a moment.

"Best night I've had in a long time."

If he wasn't so attuned to her particular frequency, he might have missed it. It was that quiet. And he's not sure she meant for him to hear it either. So he keeps going, opening the door for the delivery boy, paying for their food.

He snags the wine bottle on his way back to the couch, refilling their glasses as he sits.

Minnie is awake, nose in the air, jumping onto the coffee table before Kate can catch her. But Castle's large hand swoops her up and deposits her on the back of the couch.

"Thanks," Kate says, and he nods, smiling.

He opens the bag and hands her a container. She opens it, wrinkles her nose, and gives it back.

"Yours."

He laughs. She can't stand his usual order. He wonders how she'd feel about a s'morelet. Probably wouldn't be a fan.

She takes the other container from his hands, and he passes over a pair of chopsticks. They settle back into the couch, shoulder to shoulder, elbows bumping as they eat and drink and laugh, previous conversation put on hold for now. The moment had passed. If it came around again tonight, maybe they'd talk more. If not, that's okay too. He's just glad to be here, to be given a chance.

He hears Kate laugh, but this isn't a funny point in the movie, so he turns toward her to see what's got her going. Minnie's perched on her shoulder, little green eyes following each bite that the detective takes. He chuckles, and Kate looks over at him, grinning.

They lock eyes for a moment before a movement just past her ear distracts him. He's barely quick enough to keep the kitten from diving nose-first into her food. Apparently she was just waiting for the right opportunity. He can't help but admire her courage.


	4. Chapter 4

"What are Alexis and her friends up to tonight?"

Castle leans back against the couch, setting a hand on his now full belly. Between the food, the wine, and the excellent company, he's warm and well-fed and just plain content.

"Mm, I imagine the same thing as every year. They've probably ordered a pizza, watched a few Christmas movies. Made cookies and hot chocolate, maybe. They usually do a little Secret Santa thing."

He glances at Kate to see a nostalgic smile on her face. Had she done the same thing with her friends?

"By now, they're probably all in their jammies in front of the fire."

"Braiding hair and talking about boys?" she asks with a wink.

He shrugs, smiling at her.

"Maybe so."

"So they do this every year?"

He nods, his gaze drifting down to the kitten now stretched across them, back half on her thigh, front half on his.

"Yeah, it's been a tradition for a while. I used to be allowed to stay. I'd keep them supplied with snacks and drinks. Tell stories if they got bored. Play games if they needed an extra person. Make sure they didn't burn anything down. Past few years though, my presence hasn't really been needed."

She bumps his shoulder, a little comfort in his moment of melancholy.

"Well, she's growing up. You probably don't have to worry so much about potential fire damage these days."

He hums his agreement.

"And my mother's around, just in case."

She chuckles.

"Didn't you tell me once that your mother's parties were more raucous than your own?"

He smirks. She's right.

"Yep. But since she's a woman, she's allowed to stick around. Plus, she knows I'd kick her out if she let anything major go wrong."

The detective shakes her head.

"Oh, you would not."

"I would so."

She raises one eyebrow, and he has to admit defeat.

"Okay, so maybe I wouldn't. But only because Alexis would miss her too much. You were there after she'd moved in with Chet. My daughter was nearly despondent."

Kate smiles. He suspects that despite the unfortunate circumstances, she'd had fun during the few days that she'd stayed with them after her apartment blew up. He knows he'd enjoyed having her there, even if his feelings for her were not nearly as clear then as they are now.

"How did she end up living with you anyway?"

He grimaces. Not the best memory. His mother showing up on his doorstep one night, tear-streaked and humiliated and heart-broken.

"The guy she had married a few months before emptied their bank account and skipped town. Took her for everything she had."

Kate frowns.

"Wow. That's awful. Did they ever catch him?"

He shakes his head, his heart clenching at his remembrance of his mother's pain.

"Nope. He'd been living under a false name. He just...disappeared."

Her expression mirrors the one he knows his own face bears. Frustration. Anger. The way it feels when someone who'd hurt your loved one just gets away.

"So, she came to live with us."

"How long?"

He gives her a half-smile.

"Five years now. And it was good timing, really. Alexis was just getting to the point that she needed help with certain things. A woman's perspective. Even if my mother has never had much in the way of perspective."

Kate gives him a look he can't quite interpret.

"Your mother is..."

"Crazy? Dramatic?"

"I was going to say she's a lot like you."

He tilts his head back to see her better and pokes her lightly in the arm.

"Hey now, no need to be mean!"

She rolls her eyes.

"Oh, you know it's true. You're both dramatic, yes. Over the top."

She winks before she says, "And maybe a little crazy."

The detective laughs at the look of affront he knows must be plastered on his face and then lowers her eyes, dropping her hand to run it across Minnie's back. The kitten lets out a little snort in her sleep.

"But, in the little time I've spent with her, I've seen that she has her own kind of wisdom. She's compassionate and giving. Fun to be around. She's a bit of a whirlwind, but oddly enough, she makes me feel safe."

She said he's like his mother. Is that what she thinks of him too? That he is all of those things she just said? That he makes her feel safe?

He wants to kiss her. She is so beautiful, inside and out. So unfailingly kind and generous. How could he not be in love with this woman? He's the writer, but hers are the words that speak to his heart.

"Kate." His voice is quiet, a little rougher than normal.

She looks up, utterly open to him, eyes wide and dark and vulnerable. He wants to tell her again. Wants her to hear the words. This time without the sharp edge of grief at the loss of their friend and mentor. Without the hole in her chest. Without the descending black.

"Kate..." he whispers again, and her eyes flick to his lips before meeting his gaze once more.

His hand rises of its own accord. He's not sure if he's going to caress her cheek, run his thumb under her eye, or cup the back of her head and just pull her to his mouth.

He does neither. Something flashes in her eyes. Fear? He's not sure, but he's not willing to take the chance. The last time he took a chance like that she shut him out for three months, only came back to him when she needed the files for her mother's case. He won't make her do that again. Won't show his hand completely until he's sure that she wants what he offers.

Instead, his fingers swipe a few strands of dark hair away from her eyes as he leans in, his lips meeting her forehead as his palm slides over to cover her ear. He lingers, just for a moment. Her breath warms his neck when she exhales.

He draws back to see her eyes closed. When they open, they're clouded with something, and he wonders if he made a mistake. It's resignation, he thinks, but he's not sure if it's because she wanted him to actually kiss her or because she didn't want to let him get even this close. Either way, he thinks she's disappointed.

But she smiles.

"What was that for?"

He can't be completely honest, so he settles for part of the truth.

"Your kindness. The way you put up with me and my craziness. The advice you give me about Alexis and about my mother. Thank you."

She ducks her head, and her ears redden a little.

"You're welcome, Castle," she says as she looks up. There's a warmth in her voice, little crinkles at the edges of her eyes as she smiles. "And thank you. For the coffee, and your jokes, and your ridiculous theories. You make things...better."

His heart lifts, even as he rebuts her assertion that his theories are ridiculous. She told him before that he makes her job a little more fun. But there's a wide gap between "more fun" and "better."

"Hey, you've gotta admit...we have had cases involving the mob. And spies. And aliens, albeit not from outer space. So my theories aren't completely wrong. Not all the time."

She shakes her head, not even bothering to hide her indulgent smile this time. He loves it. Hopes he can always make her smile that way. Like she can't help it when he's around.

The tickle of whiskers against his wrist and a cool, wet nose pressed into the back of his hand alert him that Minnie is up and wants attention. He smiles at Kate once more before looking down to his lap. Green eyes stare back, blinking lazily.

"Be right back," the detective says as she stands, heading in the direction of what he knows to be her bedroom. Her bare feet make no sound as she walks. His eyes follow her until her back disappears through a door and a sandpaper tongue rasps against his knuckles.

"Hey, little one, whatcha doing?"

Minerva nudges him again, and he turns his hand, scratching just behind her whiskers. She purrs.

"You like that?"

He smooths his thumb up the ridge of the tiny nose, watching as the eyes close, open, close, open, and close again, for longer this time. He's never had a cat, always considered himself a dog man. But there's something inherently calming about the repetitive motions he's using to soothe this small creature. His own eyes are starting to droop a little.

A hand on his shoulder startles him and he jerks, rousing the kitten once more. Kate stands at the side of the couch, a soft expression on her face. Not quite smiling. He can't find the right word to describe it. There's just a gentleness about her.

"Hey," he says, and he realizes he knows exactly what she meant earlier about his voice changing when he talks to his family. Apparently it changes for her too.

"I'm back."

He smiles a little at her seeming shyness.

"I see that. What's behind your back?"

She glances behind her quickly, as if she's forgotten what she was doing.

"Oh, it's a toy she likes. I thought you might like to play with her, but she'll go crazy if she sees it, so I didn't want to show it to her if you weren't up to it. You looked like you were ready to fall asleep."

He grins.

"A toy? I'm awake."

Her eyes light up like he's given her the moon. And maybe he should. Get Kate her own piece of property on the moon, down the crater from his. Or maybe he should just add her name to his deed.

She pulls a long, thin plastic stick from behind her back. There's a thick, fuzzy rope thing attached to it, like one of those faux fur boas Alexis used to use for dress-up when she was little. At the end of the rope, there's a bundle of feathers. The whole getup is very odd looking, but Minnie sits up in his lap, ears pointed forward.

Kate holds it still. And then her hand twitches and the kitten launches herself off his leg, flying through the air toward the thing, barely missing when the detectives moves it again.

Minnie jumps from the couch to the coffee table and slides, landing on the floor and immediately leaping up again. A peal of laughter rings in his ears, and he realizes he's never seen Kate like this. Carefree. Unburdened. His own deeper laugh spills forth and she turns to look at him, dark eyes sparkling.

"You wanna try?" she asks, extending the stick to him.

He nods, reaching out as he stands up. Their fingers brush at the exchange, sending a quick tingle up his arm.

Looking down at the ground, he finds the kitten slowly moving toward the feathers, little body pressed nearly flat against the floor. She pauses, narrowing her eyes. He waits a second, then flicks his wrist up and Minnie jumps after it, twisting in the air, paws extended. He pulls it just out of her reach, and she lands on the couch again with a soft thud.

She sits up, turns her head, and begins washing her back.

Castle looks to Kate, whose hand rests over her smiling mouth.

"Is she done playing already?"

She shakes her head.

"No, give her a minute. I've noticed that she'll do this sometimes when she misses. It's like she's embarrassed that she didn't catch it, so she has to pretend she doesn't really care. Just wait."

The two of them stand still for a good thirty seconds, watching as the kitten does a very thorough job on her back, shoulders, and paws.

Then Kate reaches over, setting her hand on his. He looks at her, but she's pressing her other index finger to her lips.

Slowly, she pulls their hands back. The feathers move, inch by crawling inch, and he sees that Minerva has stopped washing, her gaze instead fixing on the feathers.

For a moment, she sits, attentive. And then her shoulders drop. Her ears turn back and lay nearly flat against her head. Her tail stays down, but the little rump rises, wiggling slightly.

He looks at Kate again, but she just nods toward the kitten, who has begun to creep toward the bundle.

A foot and a half turns to ten inches, then seven, then three, and then Kate jerks their hands back.

Minnie leaps, little paws wrapping around the rope, and pulls it to the ground with her. Kate tugs a bit, and the cat's back paws come up to rabbit against the feathered bundle, much like they did to Castle's hand earlier.

He looks back to the detective, noting the almost proud smile on her face as she continues to pull on the stick, the gray fluff ball now dragging on her back across the floor.

"Did you mean for her to catch it?"

She turns to him.

"That's the best part sometimes. Seeing how excited she gets when she finally grabs it. How ferociously she attacks the silly thing."

"You sound like a proud mama."

A little pink rises in her cheeks and she bites her bottom lip. Oh, how he wants to just kiss her when she looks like that.

"Tell the boys and I'll kill ya."


	5. Chapter 5

They play the game a few more times until all three are well and truly worn out. Both Castle and Beckett have been working hard lately. Though none of the cases since the tiger have been particularly challenging, dealing with murder is always a strain.

So he's grateful that the two of them have a chance to relax this evening, though he's certain it's not exactly what either of them expected. He never would have guessed that he'd meet someone new in Kate's life tonight, especially not someone of the small and furry variety. And of course, Kate didn't even know he was coming over at all.

"You didn't have plans tonight, did you?" he asks, suddenly worried that he might have interrupted something. "You weren't going to a party or anything?"

She raises one eyebrow at him and then gives herself an obvious once over.

"Do I look like I had plans, Castle? This is not exactly a party outfit."

His eyes skim up her body, the bare feet, pajama-clad legs, thin tank top. How is she not freezing? He's comfortable enough in his maroon sweater, jeans, and socks (the shoes had come off a while ago), but her apartment isn't what he'd call warm.

He shrugs.

"Depends on the party, I guess. You'd fit right in at a slumber party. And aren't you freezing?"

She gives him a long look, and to be honest, he's a little terrified of what she might say next.

"Why? You wanna warm me up?"

Uh. Yeah, he really does. But he can't say that, can he?

"I…"

When he doesn't complete whatever he was going to say (he's really not sure what it would have been), she rolls her eyes and shakes her head at him.

"You are just so easy."

He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Only for you, Kate, only for you.

She flops back down on the couch, patting the spot next to her.

"One more movie, then bed?"

He smirks.

"Who's the easy one now?"

He really should have expected the cushion that hits him squarely in the chest.

"Separately, Castle. And I still sleep with a gun."

She says the words, and he wouldn't dare to suggest she means otherwise, but unlike two years ago, there's a twinkle in her eye, and he can't help but again remember that moment of "next time, let's do it without the tiger." Maybe she sleeps with cuffs too.

The opening strains of "Welcome Christmas" reach his ears and turns to the tv to see the Whos beginning their decorations. He smiles.

"I love Dr. Seuss."

The detective nods.

"Had a feeling you might."

He settles into the warmth of the couch, extending his legs and propping his feet on her coffee table. He stretches his arms across the back of the couch, brushing against the back of Kate's head as he does.

"Smooth," she whispers, but doesn't move away.

He really wasn't trying to put his arm around her. Despite the extra level of physical interaction between them lately, he's not sure how that would be received.

But when she reaches for the wineglass he refilled for her (after they were done playing with Minnie, of course) and then leans back, she's a little closer to him, her upper arm brushing his side. He's glad he went with the cashmere sweater today. It's warm and soft, and it won't be abrasive on her bare skin.

She shivers a little, and he can't resisting jabbing at her a bit.

"Need me to warm you up after all?"

She laughs, and pulls the blanket higher.

"Think I'm good, Romeo. But thanks for the offer."

She turns back to watch the Grinch and Max, and he does too, but his attention stays with the detective, the smooth curve of her shoulder tucked into him, the tickle of her hair against his bare forearm when she turns her head, the scent of cherries a little fainter, giving way to her own natural spice.

"What are you guys doing for Christmas?"

Her voice is quiet, and it takes him a moment to pull himself back from his daydreams of burying his nose in her hair and just breathing deeply.

"Oh. Just sticking around home tomorrow and Sunday. I imagine we'll probably watch A Christmas Story at least once tomorrow night."

She tips her head up to look at him.

"Oh, that's right. They do that 24-hour marathon. My dad loves that movie. I'll have to remind him."

She's smiling again. She has smiled so much tonight, and he's grateful, glad not only that he gets to see it, but that he seems to be part of the reason the smile is there in the first place.

"Are you spending Christmas with your dad?"

She nods.

"Leaving tomorrow. We're going up to his cabin."

What she doesn't say, what he suspects, is that she and her father spend Christmas at the cabin because it still hurts to celebrate in apartment she grew up in, her mother's absence still so noticeable. Plus, it can be good just to get away, even if only for a day or so.

"When do you come back?"

"Monday morning. I'm on call that night. You gonna be around?"

He shakes his head. He wishes he would be around.

"I'm taking Alexis out to California to visit her mom. We leave on Monday. Come back on Friday. Gotta be in the Big Apple for New Year's Eve."

He smiles, but she doesn't. She looks a little worried actually. Maybe not openly, but it's there in her eyes.

"How is Alexis' mom? You haven't mentioned her lately."

Oh.

He shrugs.

"Fine, I guess. It's been a while since I've seen her. Every time she's been in town in the past couple of years, we've been on a case, so thankfully, I haven't really had to spend any amount of time with her."

The detective furrows her eyebrows.

"Thankfully?"

He half-smiles, ducking his head for a moment and then meeting her eyes again.

"Alexis is the only good thing to ever come out of my relationship with Meredith. And don't get me wrong, I will always be grateful to her for that one reason. But everything else that comes with being around her? I can do without it."

He remembers now their earlier forgotten conversation about his weddings, though he suspects her question had more to do with wanting to know how his marriages ended than how they began.

She hasn't said anything, still just regards him carefully, so he continues.

"We started dating a few months after Kyra left. Meredith was...fun. Carefree. We were having a good time together, and honestly, I just wanted to move on. She helped me do that. And then she got pregnant with Alexis."

Kate nods. "So you married her."

"So I married her. Remember the wedding disaster I mentioned earlier? Yeah, she got morning sickness at the reception, and yelled at me for 'putting her in this condition.' Publicly. In front of our friends and members of the press."

The detective winces and shakes her head.

"But, I wanted my little girl to have the family I never had, so we stayed together. And once the hormones balanced out a bit, it was pretty good for a while. After Alexis was born, Meredith was a doting mother for a few months. And then she wanted to go back to work, and since I could write from home, we figured that was fine for us."

He looks down when Minnie jumps onto his lap. He's not sure where she's been, but it seems she's decided to join them for story time. His hand covers her small back, the steady rhythm of her breath calming him.

"She got a few parts on soap operas, little roles, and she seemed happy enough. I was writing and enjoying being a father more than I thought I would. But Meredith...I don't know. I think she's just not cut out to stay in one place for too long. She needs new and shiny, needs excitement. And I wasn't enough."

He stops. It's hard, admitting that you're not enough. He wonders sometimes if he's been enough of a dad for Alexis. If he'll ever be enough of a partner for the woman sitting at his side. Kate's voice is quiet when she speaks.

"She cheated on you?"

He nods.

"And served me with divorce papers. But she let me keep Alexis."

The compassion in her eyes doesn't surprise him, but he is feeling a bit vulnerable, so he turns back to the tv where Cindy Lou Who is listening to the Grinch's explanations of his actions.

"You know," he says quietly, seeing from the corner of his eye that Kate is still watching him. "Alexis always reminded me of Cindy Lou Who. So trusting. So innocent. Such a good heart."

Kate touches his hand briefly.

"You've done a good job with her."

He shakes his head self-deprecatingly.

"She mostly raised herself. I just tried to not screw her up too much."

"Castle."

The tone of her voice catches him by surprise. It's almost stern.

"Don't sell yourself short. You're a great father. Alexis is lucky to have you."

Her words warm his heart. Tonight has been good for his soul, assuaging some of his doubts. She's good for him.

"Thanks."

She just bumps her elbow against his side.

"I've just always felt like I needed to give Alexis more. Needed to protect her better. I've kept her out of the press as much as possible. That's one of the things that went wrong when I married Gina. She wanted a big wedding. She loved me, yes, but she's also a business woman, and she knew that coverage of our wedding would help sell books. I didn't want my little girl's picture all over the paper."

Kate nods when he looks at her.

"Understandable. Did Gina not get that?"

He shrugs.

"She got it. She said she'd make sure no one bothered Alexis or took her picture. But I was a jerk about it and we fought. Almost called off the wedding. We made up and went through with it, obviously, but I think that was the beginning of our problems."

Kate opens her mouth and then closes it again, like she's changed her mind about what she was going to say. He nudges her.

"What?"

"Can I ask how you got together? What drew you to her?"

He softens his eyes, smiling.

"You can ask me anything."

There's a shy look on her face, and he remembers that she is, in fact, on of his fans. She reads his books. And though she teases him and puts him in his place, he knows he's still one of her favorite authors, and that's gotta be weird for her sometimes.

"We met through work, obviously. She's risen in the ranks since, but back then she was my editor. So we spent a lot of time together, going over my manuscripts. She'd help me figure out plot points from time to time. We had a lot of similar interests in books, of course. She's driven and she's passionate. Those qualities as my editor made me a better writer."

Kate nods, but there's a tightness in her jaw, a little tic in one of the muscles.

"And you would think that those qualities in my wife would make me a better man. But they didn't. She pushed too hard sometimes. She wanted me to succeed. And I know part of it was because she wanted the best for me personally. But I didn't always see it that way."

"You thought it was all about the business side."

He nods.

"I felt like she was using me. And Alexis. I don't think she was, but I accused her of it, and we fought about it one too many times, and then she was walking out."

"And this last time?" the detective asks, and the look in her eyes makes him think maybe this is what she really wanted to know.

"We had that same spark at the beginning. She's quick-witted and we still have similar interests. But we fought too much, and I just realized she wasn't what I wanted, and it wasn't fair to anyone for us to drag it out. So I ended it. For good."

The movie is ending. Not that they really watched much of it. He lifts Minerva from his lap and sets her on the arm of the couch. Standing and stretching his arms over his head, he's just about to ask if he may use her guest bathroom when he voice catches him.

"What do you want?"

It's quiet...he's not sure she even meant to say it out loud, so he lowers his arms slowly, giving her a chance to retract the question if she wants, to head to the kitchen or her bedroom if she needs escape.

But when he looks down at her, she's watching him warily, waiting for his response.

You, he wants to say. You, always. But there's a wall, and he thinks he's still on the other side. So he shrugs.

"Magic. Someone who makes me laugh and keeps me on my toes, who keeps me humble. Someone with passion, but not about business or money, but about the right things, the things that matter. Someone who will care about Alexis and be there for her when I can't. Someone who pushes me to be a better man. Not too much to ask for, is it?"

She tilts her head, and then stands up next to him.

"Not too much."

He's not sure what to say now, but as it turns out, he doesn't have to say anything. She touches his wrist, eyes meeting his warmly.

"It's late. You know where the bathroom is. I'll grab you a blanket."

She heads to her bedroom and he hears her rummaging around. He picks up their wine glasses and the remainder of the evidence of their evening and heads to the kitchen, tossing containers into the trash and setting the glasses in the sink.

That's where she finds him, doing dishes, and she touches the small of his back to get his attention.

"Blanket is on the couch. And here's a toothbrush."

"New?"

She gives him her duh look, and he nods.

"Good," he says solemnly. "Because I don't want any of your girl cooties."

She just rolls her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitches, and he knows she's amused.

"Goodnight, Castle."

His eyes follow her retreat, and she turns back to look at him when she reaches her bedroom.

"Sweet dreams, Kate."

She studies him from across the room for a moment.

"I'm leaving my door cracked."

His eyebrows shoot up.

"Why, detective, that sounds almost like an invitation. Is this your only blanket? Are you worried you'll get cold?"

She shakes her head, but there's the hint of a smile on her face.

"Not my only blanket. And not an invitation, at least, not for you. Her, on the other hand..."

Minnie is circling his feet, and he leans over to pick her up before she can climb him again.

"Understood," he says with a wink, and she disappears into her room.

He takes care of business in the bathroom, and when he returns the couch, the kitten is sitting on top of the blanket. He lifts her up and sets her to one side while he reclines and arranges the blanket and cushions to his liking.

"Looks like its just you and me now, Miss Minerva."

She promptly curls up on his chest, and he listens to her soft purr as he waits for sleep to find him.


	6. Chapter 6

He wakes to a quiet chuckle. He's on his stomach, one arm flung over the edge of the couch, the back of his hand resting on the floor. His feet are cold, so he must have kicked off the blanket at some point.

He smacks his lips. His mouth is dry. And there's a slight warm weight between his shoulder blades.

When he opens his eyes against the sunlight streaming into the room, he can make out the long, lithe silhouette of his partner standing a few feet away. She's cradling a cup of coffee in both hands. And smiling.

He blinks a few times and she steps closer. He thinks she must have been watching him. She sets the mug down on the coffee table and drops to sit on the chaise section of the couch.

His eyes drift shut of their own accord, but he knows this chance doesn't come along often, so he needs to record it in his memory. He lifts his lids again, struggling to bring her face into focus.

"Kate…hi."

That gentleness is back. The look on her face last night when she returned from her bedroom with the cat toy.

"Hey Castle, how'd you sleep?"

He hums, sleepy and relaxed and so very happy.

"Mm, pretty well. You?"

She lifts her hand, and he wonders lazily if she's going to brush the hair out of his eyes, the way he's wanted to do once or twice when he's found her asleep on the breakroom couch. He's never dared, of course. Never completed that simple act of intimacy. Well, that's not true. He did it last night, before he kissed her forehead. Somehow that wasn't the same though.

"Me too, slept pretty well."

But instead of to his hair, she reaches toward his back, and he realizes that the weight there must be Minerva. Sure enough, the heel of her hand rests on his shoulder blade and he can feel the movement of the muscles in her wrist as she strokes the kitten.

"Hi, little girl," she says softly, and something in his gut twists at the tone. "Did you find a warm place to curl up?"

The cat stands, and tiny paws pad up across his back. Then there's a tickle against his skin and Minnie is snuggling into the crook of his neck, nosing against his ear, and letting out a little sigh before she settles down.

Kate's watching the whole thing, one corner of her mouth turned up.

"I'm gonna go make breakfast," she whispers.

His eyebrows rise.

"I can help," he says, and turns his hand against the floor to push himself up.

But she stops him with a quick touch to his shoulder, shaking her head.

"It's okay, I can handle it."

She smirks.

"Besides, I think my cat has you on pillow duty for the moment."

As she stands up, he manages to move his arm enough to curl his fingers around her ankle and catch her attention again.

"Kate," he says, his thumb rubbing along the fine bones at the top of her foot. "Thanks for letting me stay over."

She smiles that close-lipped smile that he loves and her eyes fill with what looks a lot like tenderness.

"Anytime, Castle."

And then she really is brushing the hair off his forehead, fingers lingering for a moment before they slide around to give a light tug on his ear.

"Like I said, you show up, and I'll let you in."

He closes his eyes and listens as she moves to the kitchen, opening the fridge and the cabinets, making them breakfast. He allows himself to just bask in the warmth of this moment. This is how it should be. Waking up to her smile.

He lets himself daydream a little, his always active imagination painting scene after scene.

He's roused by her voice calling his name in ever-increasing volume. She's standing next to her bed with a cup of coffee, telling him there's a fresh body waiting for them and if he's not ready to go in ten minutes, she _will_ go without him. She leaves the coffee on the nightstand.

He brings her out of slumber with the press of his lips to her bare shoulder. She sits up and scoots over so he can slide into his bed next to her, settling the breakfast tray over her thighs. They do the crossword together, he steals her bacon, and she slaps his hand away with her fork.

Their bed dipping under her weight makes him stir, but it's not just her weight. A sleepy toddler blinks hazel eyes up at him and he reaches out for the boy, cuddling him close as she tells him his son had a nightmare and wanted to see his daddy.

Her breath on his ear tickles and he tries to brush her off, but she's insistent, whispering in that low, beguiling voice that she wants another, a girl this time. That gets his attention, and he rolls over, more than happy to help her in her quest to make a daughter for them.

"Castle?"

His neck is cold, and when he opens his eyes, he realizes Minerva has forsaken him for a breakfast of her own. Kate calls his name again, and he sits up. She's watching him.

"You want toast?"

He nods, at the moment not trusting his voice to keep the peace. She turns to pop some bread in the toaster, and he stands from the couch, stretching his arms over his head and leaning side to side.

"Jam?" she asks as she looks back at him.

Her eyes drop and linger on the bit of his stomach that his raised sweater has revealed.

When she meets his eyes, he knows she realizes that he caught her looking.

"Jam's good."

She nods sharply and turns around to open the fridge, pulling out butter and a jar of blackberry jam.

That's interesting. He's never made a secret of finding her attractive, but it's not often that she gives him a frank appraisal of her own. Not that he's noticed, anyway.

He folds the blanket and sets it on the back of the couch.

"Anything I can do to help?"

She smiles as he enters the kitchen, and points to the mugs in the nook behind the sink.

"Pour the coffee?"

He's so used to her telling him what to do. Go here, stay behind me, do this. They'd argued about it when they were cuffed. And then he realized that he didn't really mind following her lead. But still, it's nice to hear the question in her voice, as if she's not taking for granted that he'll do what she says.

Now that he thinks about it, she has let him take the lead a few times lately. Sure, she's still first through the door (she is the one with the gun and the training), but she has listened to his ideas more often. And she did as he said and got behind him when faced with a tiger a few weeks ago.

He makes their coffees just the way they like and carries the two mugs to the dining table. She follows a moment after with a pair of filled plates while he goes back for the jam and butter.

When he returns, she looks up and catches him off guard.

Her hair is a little tousled still. The long-sleeve sweatshirt she wears over her tank top hangs off one shoulder. And there are circles under her eyes that she hasn't yet covered with makeup.

She's gorgeous.

"Thanks," she says with that shy smile. "Sit down, and let's eat."

He sets his offerings on the table and sits, covering her hand with his and giving it a quick squeeze. His eyes never leave her face when he speaks.

"Everything looks delicious."

She tilts her head a little.

"Hope it meets your standards."

He has a feeling they're not talking about bacon and eggs anymore. Were they ever? Probably not.

"I have no doubt that it will."

She bumps his hand with hers and nods down at their food.

"We'd better eat before it gets cold."

He turns his attention to his plate for a moment before reaching for the butter. Apparently she had the same idea.

"Oh, sorry. Go ahead."

There she goes again, letting him be first.

"Nope, ladies first," he returns.

He expects a quip, something along the lines of how he definitely has to go first in that case. But it doesn't come. She just butters her toast, and then pushes the dish and the knife toward him.

He fixes up his own food and starts eating.

"You are a really good cook, you know?"

Her eyes meet his, pleasure and amusement shining in equal measure.

"It's just breakfast, Castle. It's not like it's a nine course meal."

He shakes his head and lets out a chuckle.

"You'd be amazed how easy it is to screw up bacon and eggs. Until I was eleven, I didn't know eggs weren't supposed to have the texture of rubber."

She puts a hand to her mouth to keep her laugh from expelling her food and he goes on, enjoying her reaction.

"Of course, I also didn't know that a Bloody Mary didn't always go to the left of the orange juice."

She shakes her head, and he's never been so grateful for his less than traditional upbringing.

"Well, I like cooking," she says. "So I'm glad you're enjoying it. It's more fun when I'm not just cooking for myself."

He grins.

"I am definitely enjoying it. Feel free to cook for me anytime."

She's got a wicked glint in her eye, and he mentally rewinds to figure out if he's said something to spark it or if it's just her own surprisingly dirty mind. He's not sure.

"Is that how you think it should be, Castle? Me, barefoot in the kitchen, making you breakfast?"

A pressure descends on his foot, and then he feels her bare toes wiggling against his own socked ones. He has to take a sip of his coffee to recover.

"Mm, you forgot pregnant."

A swift kick to the shin has him yelping and nearly sloshing his coffee all over his plate. But she's holding back a laugh, lip tucked under her teeth, and her eyes are sparkling, so he knows her offense is not real.

"I don't know, Castle. Somehow I don't think Nikki Heat would sell nearly as many books if she _waddled_ after suspects."

He shrugs. They weren't talking about Nikki Heat, but he's not going to point that out now. It's Kate Beckett who made him breakfast this morning, and he doesn't want to jeopardize any chance he might have of this occurrence repeating itself someday. Many days. Forever.

"She'd still be pretty kick-ass, I imagine," he says, and winks roguishly at her. "Plus, with that whole mama bear fierceness added in? Hot. And scary. But mostly hot."

She's rolling her eyes at him, but not refuting anything he says, so he decides to take a small chance.

"I bet you'll be a great mom someday."

He can tell he surprised her. Her fork is poised midway to her mouth, and it hangs there for a moment before she sets it back on the plate. He can't read her face though, and that worries him.

"Do you really think so?"

There's trepidation on her face now, confusion as well, but there, in the slight curve of her mouth, he sees hope and a little bit of longing.

"I do."

"Why?"

He considers her for a moment.

"Remember the kidnapping case, the little girl?"

She nods.

"That night, when I came back, you were asleep in that chair in her room."

Her shrug is enough for him to know that she doesn't get what he means.

"It was my job. The whole team was there."

He shakes his head.

"The rest were camped out on couches in the living room. What made you pick her room?"

Her gaze is far away for a moment before she answers.

"I'm not sure. I guess I just felt like maybe by being near her stuff, I'd think of some way to find her. But you're the one who figured out the thing with the rabbit."

He nods.

"That's true. But you had that instinct. And then when we did find her, I saw how she reacted to you. She trusted you."

The detective shrugs again. She's not convinced yet, and something in him wants her, needs her to realize this about herself.

"You care about Alexis. She's come to you for advice and goodness knows you've let me consult you about her often enough. And she told me how you reassured her when Mother and I were trapped in the bank. You told her what she needed to hear."

The surprise is written across her face, along with a shudder of memory of that day. He was terrified, and he knows his mother and daughter were too. What was that day like for her, knowing he was inside? He remembers the warmth of her hand, the look on her face when she left with Brandt. He had never been so happy and and so gut-wrenchingly despondent to see her go.

"She told you about that?"

He nods again.

"She did."

She shakes her head.

"I was so worried, Castle. I don't even remember what I said to her."

He gestures toward her with an open palm, like he's offering her a gift. And maybe he is.

"That proves my point. You have that instinct, that sense of what needs to be said or done. And you give of yourself. You would run yourself ragged to help other people. But that's what it means to be a parent. Your kids? They'll be so lucky."

He wants her to see herself through his eyes. She's extraordinary, and he tries to remind her of that when he gets the chance. But she's silent now and looking down at her plate, escaped tendrils of hair hanging down and obscuring his view of her face.

When she looks up, her eyes are shiny. Oh no. But then she smiles.

"Thank you, Castle," she says, her voice a little rough. "No one's ever said anything like that to me."

He gives her a soft quirk of his lips, standing and picking up their plates.

"I mean it, Kate," he says quietly as he carries everything back into the kitchen. "The guy you marry, your kids? They'll be so very, very lucky."

He turns to look at her, but instead of sitting at the table still, she's right behind him, bringing the last of the dishes to the sink. She shakes her head.

"I'll be the lucky one."


	7. Chapter 7

"What time are you heading up to your dad's place?"

It's still early. He'd woken up a little after seven o'clock, and they were finished with breakfast by half past eight, so he knows it's probably not safe for him to head back to the loft quite yet. If she needs to get going though, he doesn't want to slow her down.

Well, he does, but he won't.

He can just go wander the streets for a bit if he has to find something to occupy his time. He likes New York at Christmas.

"Probably not until early afternoon," she says, and his spirits lift.

Maybe he won't have to leave so soon after all. She lets out a yawn, and one of his own answers.

"Why did we get up so early?" he asks, sitting down on her couch again and patting the spot next to him. "Actually, you're the one who got up early. I was sleeping peacefully until you woke me with your creepy staring."

She gives him a sheepish smile and surprises him when she does sit down at his side.

"Habit, Castle, sorry."

He turns to look at her, raising one eyebrow, and she splutters.

"The waking up early! Not the staring! And anyway, I was watching Minnie sleep, not you."

He hums in answer.

"It's okay, Detective. I know I'm cute when I'm asleep. At least that's what my mother always said."

She rolls her eyes.

"Might be the only time," she mutters under her breath, but he hears it clearly.

He leans away from her, dropping his jaw in feigned astonishment.

"Did Katherine Beckett just admit that she thinks I'm cute?"

Her eyes widen.

"What? No!"

"You totally did!" he crows, pumping a fist into the air and leaning slightly into her space as he sing-songs the next words. "You think I'm cuu-uute..."

She shoves his shoulder, but doesn't move away from him, despite the rising pink in her cheeks.

"Oh, shut up, Castle. Besides, remember that photo at the Old Haunt? I told you that you were cute back then."

Somehow he thinks that didn't make her point the way she meant it to, because she flushes a deeper red. He can't resist poking at her a little more.

"Admit it, Kate. You just can't get enough of my boyish charm."

She shakes her head, but he's pleased to note that beneath the annoyance in her narrowed eyes, there's a sparkle of true affection.

He lets out a loud sigh and pats his belly.

"Well, now that we've got that settled, I have to tell you: your delicious food and soft couch are making me extremely sleepy."

She nudges his side with her elbow.

"Do I bore you, Castle?"

He gives her a slow smile, leaning back into the couch and closing his eyes.

"Nope, but boring and relaxing are two very different things. I could take a nap right now."

To his surprise, he feels her settling next to him, her arm brushing his.

"Mm, me too."

The knot in his chest tightens. She's been so comfortable with him last night and this morning. He doesn't know what's made her that way, but whatever it is, he hopes it doesn't change any time soon.

"Castle?" she calls, her voice soft and a little dreamy.

"Hmm?" He opens one eye to regard her, her body still, eyes closed, a slight smile on her face. The picture of contentment.

"I'm not gonna wake up with any puncture wounds this time, am I?"

He laughs quietly, remembering the two previous times they've woken up together.

"Unless they're from your cat's claws, my guess is no."

The feline in question chooses that moment to appear, jumping onto Castle's lap and kneading his thigh. He strokes her fur a few times and she curls up, purring.

He looks at Kate again. Her eyes are closed, but he can tell by her breathing that she's still awake, if barely.

"But hey," he points out, "at least it didn't look like a hickey this time. No awkward questions."

She hums, a little noise that tugs at his stomach.

"That thing hurt like hell, Castle," she says, her voice faint, barely distinguishable even in the quiet of the room. "I wish it _had_ been a hickey."

His mouth is suddenly dry, but she says nothing more. He stares at her, probably for longer than he should. When she speaks again, it startles him.

"Quit staring, creepy. Go to sleep."

He closes his eyes, but he's not so tired anymore.

Her breath evens out around the same time his heart rate does, but his mind is still buzzing. Mostly with what it would have taken for her to have a hickey there. And for him to have a matching one.

He still remembers the feel of her skin under his fingertips the night they danced together undercover at the MADT fundraiser. It was warm and smooth, and she shivered the first time he touched her back, though she claimed it was the coldness of his fingers from the drink he'd been holding.

Ryan's wedding is coming up in a couple weeks. There'll be dancing at the reception, and maybe if he's lucky, he'll get to hold her again. Although if her attitude toward him lately and their current closeness is any clue, maybe it won't take as much luck as he thinks.

He lets himself drift in his own soothing ocean of the steady sound of her breathing and the warmth of her body next to him.

Awhile later, he's not sure how long, he feels her hand brushing over his to pet Minerva, who still sleeps on his thigh, little head cradled in his hand.

His cheek is pressed against the top of her head, the softness of her hair tickling his neck thanks to the way she's tucked against his shoulder. They must have leaned into each other unconsciously while they napped. And she's awake, but she hasn't moved away from him.

He smiles, and she must feel it, because her hand pauses.

"Time is it?" she asks on a yawn, the vibrations of her voice racing through his shoulder to his chest.

He lifts his left arm to check his watch.

"A little after ten."

"What time do you have to be back at the loft?"

He chuckles.

"It's more of a matter of when it's safe to go back. Alexis will give me the all clear when her friends have left. They're usually gone by noon. But if you need me to clear out before then, I will."

She shakes her head. He's amazed that she still hasn't moved it from his shoulder.

"You can hang out here. I'll probably leave around one. I don't want to beat my dad out there, since I don't have a key."

He hesitates before he asks the question he knows he probably shouldn't.

"What did you do out there all summer?" He knows he's intruding on her privacy, so he tries to inject a little humor to soften the question. "I would have gotten so bored."

She sits up, lifting her head away from him, and his heart sinks. Should have kept his mouth shut. They were doing so well.

"I slept a lot, at least at first. Just gave my body a chance to heal. After that I read quite a bit. Spent a lot of time thinking."

He nods, dropping his gaze when she turns to look at him. His thumb moves automatically to stroke the soft fur of Minnie's ears.

"Castle."

He can tell she's asking for his attention, but he's not sure he can look at her right now. When she sets a soft hand on his arm though, he lifts his eyes to meet hers.

"You weren't the only one I didn't talk to this summer. The boys didn't say anything. I'm their boss, sort of, so they probably didn't feel like they could really call me out for it. But Lanie gave me an earful. She was so mad at me."

He's not sure what he's supposed to say, so he just watches her, lets her figure it out on her own. He knows she needs that sometimes. She looks away from him for a moment, letting her eyes drift down to her hands, which have retreated back to her own lap.

"I never meant to hurt you."

Her words come out softly.

"But you did," he says quietly.

He doesn't want to push her away, never wants to let her go. But that doesn't mean she doesn't need to know what she did to him.

"I know. And I am so, so sorry."

The tremor in her voice is enough to have him reaching over to gather both of her hands in both of his.

"Kate," he murmurs, waiting until she meets his eyes and squeezing her hands when she does. "It's in the past. You took the time you needed. And I'm a big boy. I survived."

She shakes her head, furrowing her eyebrows.

"How can you just let it go that easily?"

He lifts one hand to set it on her shoulder.

"You've been through so much already, and you don't need me adding to your burden," he says, then gives her a soft smile. "Plus, when you're a parent, you learn to get over being upset quickly. Otherwise, you'd spend half your time wanting to strangle your kids. Yes, even Alexis."

Her expression lightens. Mission accomplished.

"Besides," he continues, "it's not like you haven't forgiven me for things too. Small stuff. Really huge mistakes. There's been quite a bit of both as I recall."

He shrugs, tilting his head to one side.

"It's like when we were cuffed. We went around in circles for a bit. We pushed and pulled each other in the wrong direction. The cuffs pinched from time to time. But we figured it out, found our rhythm, and made it out alive."

She squeezes the hand under hers.

"We did survive a hungry tiger."

"Exactly," he says and then leans closer, leering playfully at her. "Speaking of which, did you need me to check you for injection marks?"

He's near enough that she can twist his ear, but not before he sees her eyes flash with something other than irritation. Something that might have been desire.

Castle yelps and tries to get out of her reach, but one of his hands is still tangled with hers and she pulls him back.

"Oh, quit being such a baby," she says. "Besides, I let you pull my pigtails all the time, but when I twist your ear you complain about it? How is that fair?"

She's got him there, but she's still grasping his hand. And that makes up for all the ear-twisting in the world, so he just shrugs, acknowledging her point.

"Castle?"

There's a hesitancy in her voice.

"Hmm?"

She squeezes his hand. "Thank you."

His questioning look prompts her to continue.

"I know you were angry with me at the end of the summer. And you had every right to be upset. So thank you, for coming back anyway."

He can see the knowledge in her eyes. She knows, or at least hopes she knows what he's going to say. But he thinks she needs to hear it anyway.

"Always, Kate. We're partners."

He grips her hand tightly for a moment and bumps her shoulder with his.

"Besides, if I'd quit working with you, I never would have met the new lady in my life."

She quirks an eyebrow, but there's a hint of insecurity in her look, and he mentally curses his attempt at a joke.

"What's this new lady like?"

Maybe he can play this off though, make her laugh, and truly get her to understand that he's not looking for anyone else to fill the space in his heart. It's distinctly Kate Beckett shaped, and no one else would do.

"Well," he begins. "She's smart. Cute, with gorgeous green eyes. She's playful...very affectionate too. She's pretty energetic, but doesn't mind just curling up with me in front of a movie."

Her eyes narrow slightly.

"She doesn't mind that you spent the night here?"

He shakes his head.

"She knows I'm here. She's...I don't know...different somehow." He pauses dramatically. "Gray and furry, for one."

It takes her a second before she realizes what he said, but when she does, she wrenches her hand away from him and smacks him across the chest. The commotion wakes Minnie, who looks between them, blinking lazily.

"Richard Castle! Are you describing my cat?"

He shrugs, keeping his face as solemn as he can.

"What can I say? She's stolen my heart."

He told her before that she and Minnie are a lot alike. He hopes she remembers that now.

And judging by the look on her face as she shakes her head at him, the sparkle in her eyes that answers his own mischievous twinkle, and her lips pressed tightly together to hold back a smile, he thinks she just might.


	8. Chapter 8

He's stirring their coffees at the counter when he hears her voice floating over from the living room. He looks up to find her with her back still to him, fiddling with her DVD player.

"What were your favorite Christmas traditions growing up?"

It's the kind of question he usually asks her, so it startles him a bit to have their roles reversed and he finds himself tongue-tied.

"Oh, uh...I don't know."

She turns to face him, disbelief etched in the furrow of her eyebrows.

"Seriously?"

If she'd given him a moment to think, he might have been able to come up with something. But now, his mind is blank.

"There must have been something," she goes on. "Something that you did every year. Ice skating? Christmas lights?"

She's halfway across the room now, closing the space between them.

"Come on, you're always trying to dig through my layers. Time to dig through yours."

There's no sarcasm, no resentment in her voice, and he thinks that must be yet another measure of how things have changed between them. She wants to know him. Not to one-up his knowledge of her. Not because she's hunting for leverage. Just for the sake of knowing.

He shrugs, light with that realization, but a little melancholy with his own memories of Christmases past.

"It was always just my mother and me," he says. "And between her job and our finances, Christmas was always...unpredictable."

Sympathy shows up on her face frequently, compassion is a regular feature in her interactions with the families of their victims. But he doesn't see it directed him very often. And it surprises him to see it now.

"Don't get me wrong, Kate," he says, stretching out a hand in front of him. "Christmas was always good, and I've always loved it. It just was never the same from year to year."

She cocks her head a little, as if she can't quite understand how that could be, and he knows he needs to explain more.

"What we did each year depended on whether or not she had a role. If she did, we might have money for presents and such, but not much time to spend together. If she didn't have a job, then we had more time, and we'd do Christmasy things. But there were never any real traditions that we did every year. And it depended on who she was with at the time too."

It strikes him that however much she's lost, Kate had one thing he'd never had growing up: a stable, predictable home life. He's happy that she had that. Glad that she has those memories.

Not that he thinks he's any the worse for wear for not having had those experiences. It's part of who he is, part of what allows him to write the way he does. The unexpected has always played a role in his life, so he lets it infuse his stories as well.

"So," he says. "No favorite Christmas traditions from my misspent youth. Plenty now though. With Alexis."

She's leaning across the kitchen island toward him, and he watches as the thread of sadness in her face unravels into joy. That's interesting. How happy she is at the thought of something he and his daughter share. She nudges his hand with her coffee mug.

"Go on."

He grins, allowing his delight to shine through.

"Gingerbread houses. We have a competition."

She leans back and quirks an eyebrow at him.

"A competition?"

He nods.

"Every year since she was seven."

"Why seven?"

He braces himself on the counter with his elbows.

"You know she goes to a private school," he says, and she rolls her eyes. Of course she knows. Get on with it.

"They had this project, the year she turned seven. It was kind of math, geometry, a little chemistry, all of that. A way to teach the kids quite a bit but still have it be fun, you know?"

She gestures for him to continue.

"Anyway, the project was to build a gingerbread house. All from scratch. The only pre-made stuff they were allowed to use were decorations: gumdrops, red hots, that kind of thing."

She's listening intently, the way she listens to a witness or a suspect on one of their cases, waiting for him to spill his secrets. And he can tell why she's so good at what she does. He'd tell her anything at this point. That intensity is always hot. But mixed with a little Christmas spirit, a little wonder? Absolutely irresistible.

"So they had to figure out a recipe for gingerbread. Soft enough to not shatter if you cut it, but firm enough to build something. And it had to taste good. They actually had to submit a sample to their teacher for testing until she approved."

She laughs.

"Maybe their teacher was just hungry."

He shrugs.

"That was my theory too. But she insisted it was _essential __for __the __learning __process_, something about testing your hypothesis and conducting trials."

The high-pitched voice he uses to quote his daughter's teacher draws an affectionate shake of the head from the detective.

"And then there was the icing. Same principle as the gingerbread, except for use as mortar, of course. It had to be the right consistency so that you could spread it pretty thin. But it also had to retain enough strength and sticking power to hold things together. And it had to be sweet too."

"More taste tests?" she asks with a chuckle.

He nods.

"Absolutely. Their teacher was in a really good mood all month. All that sugar."

She smiles againt and straightens her posture, inclining her head toward the couch in silent question. He nods, picks up his mug and follows.

"What did you guys do?" she asks as they sit, bodies turned slightly toward each other, knees curled and nearly touching.

"We won," he says with a smirk, leaning down to scoop up Minerva when she appears by his foot and depositing her in the space between their thighs.

Their hands brush briefly as they both reach out to pet the small creature. Minnie arches her back beneath Castle's fingers, purring when Kate scratches at the top of her head.

"I was, shall we say, between contracts. So I wasn't doing much writing. And I wasn't dating anyone either, so I had a lot of free time to mess around. Every day when Alexis got home from school, we'd experiment. Try new ratios of flour to molasses. Different seasonings. More sugar in the icing or less. We really perfected everything. And her house kicked every other house's tail."

She smiles, softly. Tenderly.

"Sounds like you guys had a blast."

He shrugs, his gaze traveling out the window for a moment before he brings his eyes back to hers.

"We really did. I wouldn't trade that time for anything."

She moves her leg just enough to bump their knees together.

"So how did your daughter's school project turn into a yearly competition?"

He feels a little heat rise in his face, and when she sees his blush, her gaze turns accusatory, albeit still playful.

"What did you do?"

He leans back, putting a hand to his chest.

"Me? Why do you automatically assume I did something? I should be offended."

She rolls her eyes.

"I assume because I know you, Castle."

"Oh, fine," he huffs, and even he can't understand the string of words that escape from his mouth, said so quickly they don't even sound like English.

The detective cocks her head to one side.

"Say again? Slower this time?"

He sighs and feels his cheeks redden further.

"I challenged Alexis to a build off because she kept beating me at everything else."

She laughs.

"Like what?"

"Ping-pong. Laser tag. Super Mario. Every single time I taught her something new, she would immediately beat me at whatever it was. And it's not like I was letting her win either. I tried that once with Candy Land when she was three, and when she figured it out, she got so upset that she hadn't legitimately won that she made me promise never to throw a game again."

She looks at him incredulously.

"She figured out that you'd thrown a game of Candy Land when she was three years old?"

He shrugs, a small proud smile gracing his lips.

"She's smart. She pulled an orange card on the first turn, and I told her that meant she got to take two turns at a time for the rest of the game. I really just wanted it to go quicker. Do you know how boring that game is? But when she finished and I was only halfway through, she read the rule sheet and figured out what I'd done."

Kate shakes her head.

"She read the rule sheet? At three?"

He bumps his knee against hers.

"I told you, Detective. Her first word was denouement."

Her laughter fills the space between them, wells up within him, a wave of peace and contentment and rightness.

"So this build off?"

"Was a way for me to regain some of my dignity. Kinda backfired though, at least that first year."

"How so?" she asks, amusement lacing the words.

"The competition was to see who could build the taller gingerbread house without it falling over. There was a two-hour time limit. I figured with my height and experience, I'd win easily. But I was cocky."

She looks at him appraisingly.

"She climbed on a chair, didn't she?"

He hums in confirmation.

"And kept things simple. Triangular walls and a roof, over and over. It actually looked a lot like the Flatiron on Fifth Avenue. I, on the other hand, got a little too fancy with mine and sadly, the whole thing came tumbling down two minutes before time ran out."

"Oooh, tragic," she laments, a twinkle in her eyes as she pokes him in the side.

He drops his gaze to his hands, shaking his head.

"All that work, undone in the span of a single moment. Needless to say, I was crushed."

He flicks his eyes up to hers, meeting her steady gaze.

"Alexis, being the wonderful daughter that she is, offered to let me try again the following year. And thus, a tradition was born."

She smiles affectionately, stretching her thumb to brush over his knuckles. He hadn't even realized they were both still petting Minnie, who is luxuriating with loud purrs under their twin ministrations. His skin tingles under Kate's touch.

"Sounds like fun, Castle."

The softness of her voice tugs at him. He's enthralled by this version of Kate, though he thinks there's not an incarnation of the woman that wouldn't fascinate him. Still, this one who speaks quietly to him, who touches his hand or his arm so easily, who leans into his shoulder, who lets him see her with hair loose and messy, who laughs freely...he's besotted, smitten, and utterly captivated.

He shrugs, grinning at her, knowing his eyes probably speak too much. But she doesn't look away.

"Every year's a little different. We've done height, complexity, decorations, even just sheer magnitude. Our houses took up half the living room that time."

"Who won this year?" she asks. "Unless you're doing it tonight, I mean."

"Nope, last Saturday," he answers. "And I won. We built castles."

She rolls her eyes, but there's no real irritation, just humor.

"Well, isn't that egotistical of you? And who judges these things anyway? I mean, obviously height or size would be easy, but what about the more subjective?"

He laughs, leaning further into the back of the couch and spreading his large hand over Minerva, who has rolled onto her back and is happily presenting her belly for his affections.

"It varies a little from year to year, but usually we have a few of the building staff come up for hot chocolate and cookies. We give them secret ballots and everything."

If it were any woman but Kate Beckett, he wouldn't be telling her all this. He's tried to be suave and mature in other relationships. But then, their relationship has always been different.

He tried charming and sexy on her, at the very beginning, and it didn't work. Eventually he gave in and just behaved like himself.

Less of Richard Castle, famous author and millionaire playboy, the persona he assumes for the sake of the paparazzi and his book sales.

More of Rick Castle, father of Alexis and son of Martha. Easy-going and playful. Caring and sincere. Fiercely protective of those he loves.

And that's how he knows that this, whatever this could be between them, is right. Because he doesn't have to pretend to be something he's not.

"Only you, Castle," she says on a puff of air that could be a chuckle. "Only you could come up with something like that and rope other people into it."

He gives her a cheeky grin.

"I'm just that good."

The glare she shoots him tries hard to be menacing, but fails. Her enjoyment? of their conversation, of his story, shines through.

He vaguely registers that his finger hurts a little and when he glances down, Minnie is chewing on him.

"Don't you feed her?" he asks, but doesn't shake the kitten off.

Kate gives him that teasing, coy, challenging look, the one he always sees right before she leaves him breathless and wanting, often with new material for his fantasies.

"What's the matter, Castle? I thought you'd like it if a pretty girl nibbled on you."


	9. Chapter 9

Alexis hasn't texted him yet to let him know he can come home, but he knows Kate needs to get ready to head up to the cabin. He's just wondering what he should do, stay or leave, when she touches his knee.

"Could you keep Minnie entertained while I get packed?" she asks. "Otherwise she'll get into everything."

He smiles. She's not going to make him get out just yet.

"Sure. Where's the feather thing? We can play with that."

She stands, heading toward her bedroom. The cat follows, but he doesn't. Not until she's turning back to look questioningly at him from the doorway.

"You coming?"

He shoots to his feet, nodding. She disappears into the room, and he hesitates for just a moment before going after her.

No second guesses. No looking the gift horse in the mouth. He might not be pushing, but that doesn't mean he won't be right behind her if she pulls.

When he enters the room, she's on her knees, head and arms under the bed. Her voice is muffled, but he can still hear the amusement in it when she speaks.

"Enjoying the view there, Castle?"

He sure is. And by the sound of it, she may not mind too much that he's basically ogling her.

There's a hint of a smirk on her face when she emerges, pulling a plastic box and a suitcase out with her. She slides the box toward him.

"What's this?" he asks.

She says nothing as he picks the box up and sets it on the bed, but he pauses when he's got his hands at the edges of the plastic, ready to lift the lid.

There's something in her expression, the hint of pink tongue peeking out between her lips, the tilt of her head, the shy but completely seductive way she looks up at him through her lashes as she still kneels next to the bed.

She's gonna give him a heart attack one day. And he probably won't even mind.

"Kate?"

"Open it and find out."

He lifts one side, and then flips the entire top onto her bedspread.

"Oh!"

She's laughing at him now, leaning against the mattress, her head dropping sideways to rest against a pillow at the head of the bed.

"What did you think you were going to find in there?"

He shakes his head, joining in with her laughter, seeing her own delight multiply on her face when he does.

Minerva appears and saves him from having to answer the question, immediately standing on her back legs and pulling herself up with her front paws to see over the edge of the box.

"Oh, Cas-"

But it's too late for him to heed her warning and the kitten tips into the box, landing on her back among a handful of stuffed mice and one of those shaking ferret things that used to scare Alexis.

"So what they say about a cat always landing on its feet?"

She shakes her head, watching as he scoops Minnie out and drops her onto the bed. The little one has a white fuzzy mouse hanging by the tail from her teeth.

"Yeah," the detective chuckles. "Not so much."

Kate observes the two of them for a few seconds more, looking on as he peruses the contents of the box before pulling out the same toy they'd played with last night.

"Good call," she says. "She'll play with the mouse for a couple minutes, and it shows up in the most random places. But she loves the game with the feather. It's her favorite. Something about what she wants being just out of reach. I think she likes the anticipation."

Somehow, that sounds a lot dirtier than he thinks she meant it. She's talking about her cat. That's all.

But when he chances a glance at her, she's watching him, eyes glinting dangerously. Huh. Maybe she did mean it the way he heard it.

He shrugs casually, extending a hand to help her off the floor.

"There is something to be said for taking one's time. The chase, as it were."

When he pulls her up, with a little more strength than he intended, there's not much space between them. Her eyes linger a moment on his lips, and he feels his pulse quicken. But then she's patting him on the chest and stepping away.

"Thanks for the hand."

He smiles.

"No problem."

His eyes follow her across the room, watching as she opens drawers and starts pulling out t-shirts and sweat pants.

When he feels a tug on the stick in his hands, his attention is drawn back to Minerva. Kate's right: the mouse has disappeared, and she's ready to play with him again.

Soon he has her racing around one second, leaping through the air the next. She stops from time to time to wash, and he's patient with her, knowing she'll pick up the game again in a moment.

The detective continues to get ready, though she looks back every couple of minutes, he's noticed. He just grins every time. And every time, she shakes her head, a gently amused smile on her face.

Eventually, he lets Minnie catch the feathers. She rolls onto her back, nipping at the rope and then chewing on the bundle at the end, green eyes squinting closed.

He drops to sit on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed, and pulls on the stick to drag the kitten closer to his side. When she bumps his thigh, she rolls over again, letting go of the toy.

He pats his lap, and she jumps onto the spot, considering him briefly before she makes a swift, somewhat painful ascent to his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck again.

"Your cat's something else, Detective," he calls out.

Her head appears from behind the closet door before she shoulders it open and steps back into her bedroom holding a pair of tennis shoes and a pair of heavy boots he's never seen.

"Hmm? How so? Looks like she's being sweet enough right now."

He laughs.

"That's exactly what I mean. Right now she's being sweet, cuddling up to me. A minute ago she was ripping those feathers to shreds."

Kate shrugs, seemingly unconcerned.

"Woman's prerogative, Castle. You should know that by now, living with two women and shadowing another."

He shakes his head, enjoying again this lighter side of the steely detective.

"You're right. I should know that. After all, isn't that what little girls are made of? Sugar and spice?"

She finishes packing the last of her things into the suitcase and then lets her legs collapse to sit down next to him, shoulder to shoulder on the floor.

"I had a friend in high school whose grandmother was Yugoslavian. I was at my friend's house one day after I'd broken up with my first boyfriend, who said he'd found someone else, someone more interesting. Really, I think she just had bigger boobs."

He can't help but laugh, but she glares at him, so he quickly speaks up.

"I can't imagine anyone not finding you interesting," he says, causing her to look down as her cheeks redden a little. He bumps her shoulder and winks when she looks back at him. "And, as you pointed out a few months ago, you don't need the implants."

Her laugh rings out.

"Thanks, I think. Anyway, my friend's grandmother heard me telling my friend about it and she decided to give me some advice."

"Oh?" he asks, genuinely curious about what it could have been that she still remembers at least fifteen years later. "What was it?"

She grins.

"I wish I could remember how to say it in her language, because it sounded beautiful. But the translation was what stuck with me: Be sweet like a banana, and spicy like a pepper."

He nods, smiling.

"That's good. I like it."

Her shrug jostles his shoulder, and then she's bracing herself on his leg, pushing herself up to her feet, reaching back down to give him a hand. Minnie's claws dig into his shoulder as he stands and she tries to hold on.

When they're both up, he stretches his arm up to dislodge the kitten.

"Do you need me to take care of her while you're gone? I could stop by and feed her. Maybe even take her to the loft. I don't think Mother and Alexis would mind."

The detective smiles, and rests a hand on his arm lightly.

"That's sweet, Castle. Thank you. But she's going to my dad's with me."

He's oddly disappointed, though he has never spent much time with a cat at all until last night. He likes this one though.

"Ah, that's good. Well, anytime you need a cat-sitter, you just let me know."

She squeezes his forearm.

"Will do. And don't worry, I won't harm your reputation by telling anyone you're a cat lover."

He leans back to look at her.

"Frankly, I think it showcases my sensitive side," he says pompously, earning an eye roll. "And besides, it's not all cats. Just yours."

She smiles at him again. He's lost count of how many times he's seen that upturn of her lips since he showed up on her doorstep last night. It's different. But good different. Definitely good different.

"Could you drag my suitcase out while I put this stuff away?" she asks, gesturing to the box of cat toys still sitting on the bed.

He nods and grabs the handle of the rolling bag, holding onto Minerva tightly with the other hand so she won't jump down and get run over.

His phone buzzes just as he's leaning the suitcase against the wall in her entryway. He retrieves it quickly. A text from Alexis: All clear.

"Kate?" he calls out as he leans over to put the kitten on the floor.

When he straightens up, the woman is standing right in front of him.

"What's up?"

He holds out his phone.

"Alexis just texted me. Said I can go home. I'll get out of your hair so you can head out before it's too late. Let me just find my shoes."

She nods, her face a little more sober than a moment ago in her bedroom.

"You left them by the couch."

He finds them quickly, sitting down for a moment to slip them on and when he gets back to the entry, Kate has his coat off the hook and is holding it out to him.

"I had a good time," she says, and he knows she means it.

He takes his coat from her and she opens the door as he pulls it over his arms.

"Me too," he agrees. A better time than he even thought he would. "Thanks for letting me stay."

She nods, eyes bright but not smiling at the moment.

He stands in the doorway, broad shoulders nearly filling the frame and looking down to button his coat. As he finishes the last one, he raises his head. She's watching the movement of his hands.

He wants to hug her, should just seize the moment, but instead he finds his right hand thrusting itself forward, as if to shake hers. She takes it, gives it a firm squeeze.

"Merry Christmas, Kate," he says quietly, and he can hear the tenderness in his own voice. Can she hear it too? "Be safe."

She squeezes his hand again.

"You too."

And then, without letting go, she's placing her left hand on his right shoulder, lifting herself up on tiptoes, and leaning into him.

Her fingers curl around his neck, tickling the soft hairs at his nape, and she presses a kiss to his cheek, her lips soft and lingering and warm to the left of his mouth. If he turned his head, just an inch…

"Merry Christmas, Castle," she whispers, and draws back, dark eyes watching his reaction.

He smiles, and then frowns as he feels as he feels claws digging into his thigh. Apparently Minnie decided to take advantage of his distraction. He reaches down to dislodge her and then brings her up with both hands to rub his nose against hers.

"Hey, little one," he coos, catching the now familiar quirk of Kate's lips. "Take good care of your Mama for me, okay?"

The detective shakes her head, crinkles appearing at the edges of her eyes.

"Oh, get out of here, you." she says, reaching out for the kitten.

He hands Minerva off to her owner, watching as she cradles the little creature against her chest.

"See you soon, Kate," he says, leaning forward to squeeze her shoulder and impulsively wrapping his arms around her for a quick, tight embrace. She smells wonderful.

The kitten squeaks between them and he pulls back, laughing. Kate is blushing, the edge of her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, but she nods.

"See you soon."

He's whistling as he walks out the door. "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" has always been one of his favorites, and the lyrics seem especially apropos now. He truly hopes that by this time next year, all their troubles really will be out of sight.

Halfway to the elevator, she calls out to him.

"Castle?"

He turns and sees her leaning against the almost closed door, one hand behind her on the knob, still worrying that bottom lip and looking nervous.

"I love that song."

He nods, allowing a slow smile to spread across his face.

"Me too."

"You should know...between you and this one here," she tells him, looking down at Minerva, "my heart is getting lighter every day."

His own heart is thumping out of his chest. In three steps he could have her in his arms.

He knows that Alexis is waiting for him at his loft. He's aware that the detective has a long drive ahead of her this afternoon. He can tell by the slight hint of panic in her eyes that Kate herself isn't quite ready, not yet.

But that doesn't mean he's not sorely tempted to disregard everything and push her back into her apartment. Not let her out - or even up - for hours.

"That's good to know," he settles for saying, and he knows he's done the right thing when the tension melts from her face and she smiles back at him.

He pauses, wondering if he should say more. If she could handle hearing more right now. He decides she probably could, though he still needs to tread carefully.

"You know, Alexis does this thing every year," he says carefully, and she nods. "I imagine she'll still do it when she's home from college. Get the gang back together for an evening."

He sees the comprehension dawn on her face and she lets out a short laugh.

"Are you trying to line up a hideout for next year already?"

He shrugs, a little sheepishly. That's exactly his plan, though his motive is more to find out how she'd feel about him still being around in a year.

"I told you, Castle," she says slowly, as if speaking to a small child who just hasn't gotten it yet. "You show up..."

He grins, sees an answering light flare up in her own eyes.

"And you'll let me in?"

She nods.

"And I'll let you in."


	10. Epilogue

Alexis left an hour ago to go see a movie with a boy she's known as a classmate for years. She says he's quiet, a little geeky, but sweet and always kind to her. He asked her out a few weeks ago and apparently he bought her a gingerbread latte after school one day (she does take after her father with her tastes in that respect, even if he hasn't sold her on the s'morelet).

So far, he's only met the kid once. This evening, actually, when he stopped by to pick her up. He seems nice enough, if a little nervous. He shook Castle's hand, gained a measure of respect in the author's eyes for the firmness of his grip.

Martha is out with some actor friends, living it up as always. So he has the loft to himself.

It's been a great day, but Castle's rather glad for the chance to decompress a bit, to relax before what he knows will be a long (and likely incredibly trying) week ahead. He had promised his daughter months ago that he'd take her to California to visit her mom over Christmas break.

He's most definitely _not_ looking forward to seeing his hurricane of an ex-wife. But he is looking forward to time with his little girl. And since he has no doubt that Meredith will ditch them at least once or twice, he should get to hang out with Alexis plenty.

It'll be warmer than it is in New York, and though he loves the winter chill, he likes the sun too. It would be an ideal trip really, if it weren't for Kate.

Kate. She's never been more than a breath away from his thoughts since he left her smiling in her hallway yesterday afternoon.

She texted him last night to say that she'd made it to the cabin safely. He hadn't expected that, nor the feeling the brief message stirred up in him. He'd texted her back a simple thanks for letting him know, in place of all the things he really wanted to say, questions about whether her checking in with him was going to be a regular thing now.

This morning his phone had trilled with another incoming message from her. This time it was a video.

Jim Beckett stood in an open doorway looking out over a snow-covered porch. He could see Minerva standing next to the man on the doormat, head cocked as she considered the white blanket. She put out a paw, cautiously, to touch the snow, jumping straight up and back when she felt the cold.

Kate's laughter rang out from behind the camera, and Castle felt his heart swell with affection.

"Minnie," she called in that soft, sweet voice he'd never heard until this weekend. "Come here, baby girl."

The kitten hesitated, but then stepped out. Slowly, she moved across the porch, putting one paw down at time, drawing back frequently, but slowly venturing forward toward the camera, moving faster as she seemingly gained confidence.

"We woke up to snow this morning," Kate's voice told him quietly over the video. And I wanted to show you, came the unspoken message.

He watched as Minerva reached the edge of the steps. The detective must have been standing just a few feet down the walk because he could see the footprints she'd left behind. Castle figured the kitten wouldn't leave the safety of the porch. But she did.

Kate's gloved hand shot forward into the frame of the video, but she was too slow and too far away to stop the little gray cat from taking a flying leap from the steps, disappearing straight into a small snow drift at the bottom.

"Oops, gotta go," he heard. The camera moved forward and a faint meow came across the line before the screen went black.

_Adorable_, he'd texted her back. _And Minnie's pretty cute too._

He'd taken a chance, hoping that their openness from Friday night and Saturday morning could be maintained, despite the distance now between them.

Her reply had made him laugh out loud, earning a look from his daughter as she waited for him to finish making the mashed potatoes. _My dad says if you think he's adorable now you should see his baby pictures._

Good, she was playing right along with him. _Haha_, he answered. He said nothing else, leaving the ball in her court, knowing full well that she'd understood what he was saying before. She hasn't texted him back, but he's not worried.

Now, hours later, their typed conversation is still bringing a smile to his face. He needs to talk to her, needs to hear her voice at least once more before he and Alexis leave in the morning. Even though they're separated by many miles, he feels like they're still in their own bubble, where no murders or ex-wives exist, where it's just the two of them. He wants to hold onto that feeling as long as he can.

He calls her.

"Castle?"

A grin spreads his cheeks when she answers with his name rather than her customary use of her own surname.

"What's up?" she asks when he doesn't reply.

"Hey Kate," he says quietly, his voice deeper than usual. "Merry Christmas."

There's a momentary pause, some shuffling, and he thinks he hears a door closing.

"Merry Christmas to you. Good day?"

He allows himself to sink further into the back of the couch, watching the flames dance in the fireplace.

"Yeah, very good. You?"

She hums softly through the speaker, and he's struck with the sudden vision of her doing the same thing into his ear while they're cuddled up in bed. It leaves him winded.

"Mmhmm. We've had fun."

"How's your dad?" he asks when he's sufficiently recovered.

"He's fine. Says hello."

The last time he saw the man was in the hospital while they waited for news on Kate. The look on the man's face...he'll never forget it.

"Tell him hi for me too," Castle says. "And Minnie."

She laughs lightly. "Tell her yourself. Hold on."

There's a creak, something that sounds like bedsprings, and he imagines her cloistered in a bedroom for privacy, leaning back against a pile of pillows.

"You still there?" she asks, her voice sounding a little farther away, with a hint of an echo.

"I'm here," he responds.

He hears more shifting, a muffled "oh, come here, you," and then she's talking to him again.

"Here she is."

He thinks he knows what's going on, but no, surely not. Not his serious detective.

"Who? Minnie?"

She chuckles.

"Uh-huh. Sorry, she was more interested in playing with my hair."

"Can't blame her for that," he quips, distance and love making him bold. "I would be too."

Her breathless laugh tugs at him, stirs up desire within him.

"Annnyway," she says, drawing out the word awkwardly. He loves awkward Kate. Normally she's all grace and poise. But awkwardness? It suits her just as well.

"I've got you on speakerphone," she says, pulling him from his thoughts. "So you can talk to her. If you want."

He wonders if this is how it will be when they have kids. If they have kids, he corrects himself. No. When. He's determined to make that happen, to see what Kate Beckett would be like as a mother, to see more than these brief glimpses of the woman she could become. He wants to call home when he's on a book tour and have her put their kids on the phone so they can talk to daddy.

"Hey pretty girl, whatcha doing?" he sing-songs, his voice rising into that same tender tone that used to come out when he would lean over his daughter's crib to find bright blue eyes focused solely on his own.

"I told you, Castle. I'm sitting here with Minnie."

Oh, she's got a little boldness of her own tonight. A little sass to spice things up.

"Sorry," he jokes. "Should have been more specific about which pretty girl I was addressing. Could you put your cat on the line?"

Her laughter warms him, fills his empty places. He hears a mew, and then the dead line beep echoes in his ear. He pulls the phone away to look at it, and it almost immediately starts ringing again, the detective's smiling face appearing on the screen.

"Kate?"

"She hit the 'end call' button with her nose. Sorry. I don't think she wants to talk."

He grins, though he knows she can't see it.

"It's okay. You might be a better conversationalist."

He can almost hear her eye roll.

"Thanks for your vote of confidence in my intelligence."

"Hey," he defends himself. "Cats are really smart."

She hums again. That's quickly becoming one of his favorite sounds.

"Well, she did hang up on you, so I guess you might be right."

She insulted him and told him he was right all in one sentence. Sexy. He laughs.

"So what have you guys been doing?"

He hears the squeak of springs again and thinks she might have rolled over. Getting comfortable for their conversation.

"We've just been hanging out mostly. Watched A Christmas Story last night during dinner. Opened presents this morning."

"Did you get anything good?" he asks.

She chuckles. At his child-like excitement, he assumes.

"New motorcycle helmet, so that's nice."

"You should take me for a ride sometime, you know?" he teases.

Her voice is throaty when she answers.

"Oh, I know."

His mouth is suddenly dry, the moisture evacuated by her innuendo, gone the same way as his coherent thoughts.

"Did I lose you, Castle?"

He opens his mouth and then closes it again.

"No, no, you've still got me," he finally says after she's called his name again.

She laughs, but it's not the light laugh of before. This one sounds dark, bewitching, almost a siren-song.

He can do nothing but breathe for a moment, and she seems to be doing the same.

"So." His voice comes out more than a little strangled. "What did you do the rest of the day?"

There's a pause, and he wonders if she is coming back from the same place he was.

"Just messed around mostly. I played in the snow for a bit with Minnie."

His heart clenches. Kate Beckett, playful and relaxed. He wishes he could have seen more than just the video she sent.

"How'd she do with it?"

She giggles. Actually giggles.

"Okay, after I pulled her out of the snow drift and took her back to the porch. She was actually shivering when I brought her back inside though."

He smiles.

"Poor thing."

"I wrapped her in towel and we sat in front of the fire for a bit to warm up."

She's painting pictures in his head in a way he doesn't think she even realizes. It's a side of her he hasn't seen much, this happy Kate. He likes it more than he can say.

"Sounds like a good day."

She sighs, but it's not the discouraged or upset or annoyed one he hears sometimes. It sounds more like contentment, a release of the satisfaction that is too much to stay inside.

"Doesn't hurt to be wrapping up the day with my favorite author."

Oh. His stomach flips. He didn't expect that. Didn't expect that at all. He's not really sure what he's supposed to say. He falls back on the familiar.

"Patterson's there?"

He can hear the smile in her voice.

"Nope. Not him. You might know the guy. Follows me around sometimes?"

"Alex Conrad?" he offers.

Her sigh this time _is_ one of frustration. But frustration tinged with happiness, so he thinks that's okay.

"I told you, Castle. I'm a one-writer girl. Did you forget that?"

No. He didn't. Couldn't. Ever.

"Ah," he says.

The silence stretches between them. He dearly wishes he could see her face. Could lie next to her on the bed and twine their fingers together and let the silence wrap around them like a blanket.

"What time do you and Alexis leave tomorrow?"

He lets out his own sigh.

"Early. Eight o'clock. Have to be at the airport by six-thirty."

"You come back on Friday?"

He nods, then realizes she can't see him.

"Yes, late. You're working, aren't you?"

"I am on Friday. Just on call for New Year's Eve. I was supposed to be working Saturday too, but Karpowski switched with me. Needed an out on a party invitation she felt obligated to accept."

He laughs at the thought of the tough cop not wanting to hurt someone's feelings. But he hesitates before extending his own invitation. She might have been telling her schedule just so he'd know whether or not he might get a call about a body. But she might have meant something else.

"Come over? If you don't get called in on Saturday night? We could watch the ball drop."

He wants to do more than that. He wants to do so much more.

"Doesn't the Mayor always have a big party? Aren't you going?"

She hasn't said no.

"Not this year," he says honestly. "I don't like going by myself. I was going to see if you wanted to go, but I thought you were working. And Mother and Alexis had other plans."

He hears an intake of breath. Not a gasp. Just a quickening.

"You couldn't find someone else?"

This. She needs to know this.

"It's too late to RSVP anyway. And besides, I don't want anyone else."

She goes silent on the other end. Literally. He can't even hear her breathing anymore.

"Kate?"

Nothing for a moment. His whole body coils. And then she speaks.

"I can't make any promises, but I'll come over if I don't get called in."

Whatever had tightened inside him comes loose, and he lets out a shaky breath.

"Of course, if a body does drop, you know I want in."

She chuckles, the tension between them dissolving.

"I'd expect nothing less, Master of the Macabre."

He chuckles, relieved that he doesn't seem to have screwed anything up.

"Hey Kate?" he calls. "If you do come over, bring Minnie. I miss her."

He listens to her slow exhale. She seems to have come back around to contentment.

"You know, Castle, I think she misses you too."


	11. Warm and Fuzzy: A Prologue

As it turns out, at four o'clock on Saturday afternoon, she does get called to a scene. He answers on the first ring.

"Kate?"

He's whispering and he sounds a little breathless and she wonders what he might be doing. Jealousy flares briefly in her gut before she remembers his words on Christmas Day._ I don't want anyone else._

She trusts him.

She's trusted him with her life and her back-up piece. When Raglan had asked in that diner who Castle was, that had been her answer: _He's someone I trust._

"Hey Castle, whatcha doing?"

No doubt now. Not in this man. Just curiosity, despite the fact that she should just get to the point.

"Laser tag," he says quietly. "Trying not to give away my position."

Ah, that explains it.

"So what's up? You two still coming over tonight?"

Just as she is about to answer, she hears movement and a mumbled "oh sh-" from Castle, followed by some beeping and a familiar groan.

"What happened?"

He laughs over the line.

"The boy shot me."

"Drew?"

"One and the same," he confirms. "We were discussing Ender's Game and one thing led to another."

It turns out that "the boy," as they have come to call his daughter's new boyfriend, is a lot like Castle himself. Kate's been teasing him that girls are drawn to men like their own fathers. That thought horrified him until she reminded him of two things.

He makes her think of her dad, as she told him last weekend. And he himself is a good man.

She decides they don't really have time right now to get into why he's playing laser tag with Drew, not when there's a fresh homicide waiting for them. Or for her at any rate.

"We've got a body, you want in?"

"Yeah, I definitely want in," he says, his voice becoming more distant the longer he speaks. She assumes he's set the phone down so he can start taking off his laser tag gear. It's strangely intimate.

"So I'll pick you up in twenty?"

He lets out a soft grunt, and she pictures him reaching around to unstrap his vest. Heat flares in her belly.

"I can meet you there if it's easier."

She should agree and give him the address. Should, but won't. She needs to see him. As soon as possible.

"I'll pick you up," she says firmly.

"Okay," he replies, and his voice sounds like he's smiling. "I'll have coffee."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This is me giving in to peer pressure. At least it's not drugs, right? Here's a little teaser of the next segment of the Minnie-verse, to be titled "Warm and Fuzzy." It'll be its own new story, but we can consider this the prologue, since it's not quite long enough to warrant its own chapter. The full first chapter should be up tomorrow, so keep an eye out for it!**


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